


across the universe

by bevioletskies



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Childhood Friends, F/M, Growing Up Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Modern Royalty, Post-Apocalypse, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-10-08 03:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevioletskies/pseuds/bevioletskies
Summary: Peter, the son of the Chancellor, has lived among the stars for the first ten years of his life. Gamora, the future Commander of Terra, has lived on the ground for the first ten years of hers. Though it’s finally time for the last survivors of the so-called apocalypse to return to Earth, they might not be prepared for what’s waiting for them. But when Peter and Gamora meet and find their worlds irreversibly tangled together, titles, obligations, and the impending war may be the very last thing on their minds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The premise of this fic is very loosely based off of _The 100_ , the television show more so than the book series. However, no previous knowledge is required, as I only used the basic concept and language, and none of the storylines or characters arcs from the show.
> 
> Fic title is from the song [Across The Universe](https://open.spotify.com/track/4tnVkev96FKWFk1wLBYcJA?si=la2AhTqPTx-_LtKMSERvGA) by The Beatles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries.

Gamora crouched low in the grass, maintaining her near-perfect center of gravity while balancing delicately on her toes. Her eyes and ears were alert, the handle of her switchblade digging into the palm of her hand from clutching it too tightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could only just spot her sister a little off to her left, their gazes fixated on the same target about fifteen feet away. She used her free hand to bring her finger to her mouth, silencing her before her breaths became too loud, too laborious.

However, she was too late; Nebula seemed too far gone to be reasoned with. Her ink-colored eyes narrowed to slits, and under her breath, she murmured, “ _Yu gonplei stei odon_.”

With a feral shout, Nebula took a running leap, landing firmly on the shoulders of her intended prey, yanking the wooden staff from its holster on her back and swinging it around, across the column of his throat. She grappled its other end with her other hand and yanked, snarling viciously as it dug into his flesh. The man stumbled, gasping for breath, before suddenly rolling forward, sending Nebula tumbling to the ground in front of him, the staff shattering instantly upon impact. Gamora hung her head in disappointment.

“You failed again. Why am I not surprised?” Both girls looked up into the face of their father. They barely noticed the other man, one of many mid-ranking generals who’d been unlucky enough to be their trainer for the day, limping away, rubbing at the irritated skin on his throat like it only mildly inconvenienced him, another blow to Nebula’s already wounded pride. “Are you proud of the way your voice sounds? Do you _enjoy_ having everyone know where you are and who you are? Why do you insist upon screaming like an animal instead of remaining silent like a warrior?”

“I wanted to practice my battle cry,” Nebula murmured, recoiling. “I’m...sorry, Father.”

Thanos drew to his full height, completely towering over them, his shadow engulfing them in darkness despite it being mid-afternoon. “We’re finished here today. Let me speak to _heda_ , alone.” Nebula slinked off in dejected silence, picking up the remains of her staff along the way. “You performed well today, little one. You’ve become stronger, far stronger than she could ever hope to be.” He jerked his head sharply to the side, indicating he wanted Gamora to follow him further, away from their temporary camp.

“I don’t know if I will be ready by the time I’m of age,” Gamora replied, brushing her stray baby hairs out of her face. “Your _gonakru_ don’t like me very much.”

“That is because you’re still a child,” Thanos said dismissively. “They don’t see the potential in you like I do. Your ferocity, your intelligence, they will carry us forward, Gamora. They don’t see how much more powerful you are compared to all the rest.”

“They want their children to become _heda_ instead,” Gamora muttered. “They believe it’s their right.”

“Then they forget who keeps them alive. Who made sure they had soft beds and warm bellies? Who protected them from those who dared challenge our right to this earth?” Thanos came to a stop, his piercing gaze wandering across the horizon. Vast expanses of lush grass, trees as far as the eye could see, a rich blue sky that bathed them in fresh, warm light. It was almost impossible to tell what had really happened here a hundred years ago.

“You, _wanheda_. The commander of death.” Gamora stopped beside him, her fingers itching to reach out and pluck a single flower from the ground, just so she could have something to make her war-ridden tent feel more like a home. “They follow you. They _fear_ you.”

“And they will come to fear you as well. As they should.” Thanos almost sounded proud, but Gamora couldn’t help but feel her stomach curl at the very thought. She tucked her hands behind her back, clenching her fists so tightly she could feel her fingernails drawing blood in her palms. “You have good instincts, Gamora, and far more gravitas than anyone I’ve ever met. Your worthiness will become known. I have no doubt.”

“I have eight years to prove myself,” Gamora said brightly, smiling just the slightest bit. “I have time.”

“Do not wait that long, little one,” Thanos warned, glancing down at her. “They may try to kill you first.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Really?”

“They do not care for your age or your affiliation. Only your title,” Thanos said gravely. “If they find you a threat to their survival, they _will_ slip into your room in the cover of night, and slit your throat before you ever wake again.”

Gamora shuddered, drawing away from him. “May I please return to camp, Father? I’m hungry.”

Thanos nodded sharply. “You have my permission to rest, but we return to Sanctuary tonight. We ride out when the sun begins to set, or else the reapers will find us from the trees. I need to have some words with the _gonakru_ about setting up snipers across Shallow Canyon.”

“Why is that, Father?” Gamora asked.

“I believe war is coming.” Thanos turned, staring directly at the sun, barely moving to shield his eyes. “And not war among our people, but one of a different kind. The kind that comes from the _skai_.”

* * *

“How was school today, baby?” Peter glanced up from the dining table across the expanse of their modest apartment, surprised to see his mother smiling warmly in his direction. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

“It was okay,” he shrugged, grinning toothily when she walked over to kiss his forehead. “I’m still no good at math, even though I really like my teacher.”

“Should we get you a tutor, then? They’ve got a great system going with the older kids who need extra education credits,” Meredith suggested. She went back to the front door so she could hang up her doctor’s coat and kick off her shoes, then collapsed onto the couch with a relieved sigh. She never had anything but long, arduous shifts in the medical ward, and today was no exception. “I’m glad you like your teacher, though. You had a real big spat with that last one, didn’t you?”

“He was rude to Mantis,” Peter frowned. “He got all freaked out ‘cos of her powers, but she wasn’t gonna do nothin’.”

“People don’t like what they don’t understand,” Meredith said, shaking her head. “After all this time, some folk still don’t understand modern medicine. They think I’m trying to poison them!”

“You would never!” Peter exclaimed, sitting up in his chair. “They got real scared about that ant - anti - antidote? Yeah, that antidote that you tried to give ‘em last month for the air seal problem in Sector Six. It was only after they stopped swellin’ up that they stopped tryna protest.”

“I told ‘em, baby, I even let ‘em have a look at _decades_ of science. But you would not believe what some people choose not to believe,” Meredith chuckled sadly. “Your sister over at farm station again?” Peter nodded. “And your daddy’s in Sector One, probably doing a late night...I’m not sure if he’ll be coming home today. There’s a big ol’ announcement he wants to make, won’t even tell _me_ what it’s all about.”

“He don’t tell us anything, anyways,” Peter muttered derisively under his breath.

Meredith frowned, moving to join Peter at the table. “Come on now, you know that’s not fair. He’s got all those laws to obey, and if the Chancellor himself don’t follow them, then what are they good for?”

“But we’re his family,” Peter protested. “Can’t he at least...I dunno, give us a hint? He’s been talking about it for ages.”

“He could get floated for it, baby,” Meredith murmured, reaching over to squeeze Peter’s arm. “Not everyone on the Council likes him, and they’re looking for _any_ excuse to get him out. If we know something we’re not supposed to...it’s his life on the line. It could be _all_ of our lives on the line.”

“But he said it could _change_ our lives,” Peter said. “But...I guess that could mean anything. Like more rations, so people don’t get the hollow stomach virus.”

“Or maybe they lifted the one-child policy,” Meredith suggested. “He’s been talking about it ever since we found Mantis.”

“Yeah, ‘cept no one knows Mantis is _actually_ his kid,” Peter retorted. “They just think her daddy never spoke for her mama when Dad floated her.”

Meredith exhaled sharply. “We don’t talk about that, Peter. Ever.”

“There’s a lot of stuff we don’t talk about.” Peter yanked his arm out of her grasp and resumed his schoolwork with a scowl on his face. Meredith opened her mouth to reprimand him, but the wince-inducing screech of the front door’s poorly maintained hinges cut her off.

“I’m hungry,” Mantis announced loudly to the entire apartment, tossing her shoes aside and skipping over to the table, oblivious to their rigid expressions. “Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, baby.” The tension in Meredith’s face instantly vanished, and she leaned over to kiss Mantis’s cheek. “I hope you were careful today, you know I don’t like you being around all those harvest machines.”

“Renie’s daddy would not let us into the greenhouses,” Mantis frowned, walking over to the fridge to search for a snack. “But he did show me the brand new holoscreen that Renie’s got in her room. She wants to know why _I_ don’t have one, ‘cos we’re s’posed to be the richest family here.”

“We aren’t the richest by any stretch, darling,” Meredith said gently. “The most powerful, maybe.”

“What’s the difference?” Peter asked. Mantis turned away from the fridge, also curious.

Meredith hesitated, glancing back and forth between their innocent faces. “Your daddy’s invested a _lot_ of his own money into this secret project of his. That’s why we live in a smaller apartment now,” she said carefully.

“No, it’s ‘cos he wanted his own place in Sector One so he can keep avoidin’ us like he always does!” Peter snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. Mantis let out a startled shriek, nearly dropping the cup of water she was holding.

“Peter!”

“He’s only talked to me three times this week, and all he ever says is ‘good morning’,” Peter grumbled. “He don’t even look at Mantis at all. Not for one second.”

“Peter, keep your voice down,” Meredith said urgently. “You don’t want other people to hear speak badly about your daddy, or else - ”

“Or else they’ll float me?” Peter got to his feet, snatching his homework up in his arms and storming off to his and Mantis’s shared bedroom. “They gotta catch me first.”

* * *

Gamora rolled over on her makeshift cot, woven by her own hands, staring into the dying fire intently, watching the last of it flicker away. She could only just make out Nebula’s silhouette across from her, back turned firmly in her direction. “Did you hear about the incoming war?”

The silence stretched on for so long, Gamora wasn’t sure if Nebula had heard her. “You should really stop listening to the other children. They know nothing.”

“It wasn’t _from_ the other children, Nebula, it was from Father,” Gamora whispered. “He said they come from the sky. _Skaikru_.”

“We’ve heard about the _skaikru_ before. Why would they come now? They think their planet is gone,” Nebula scoffed.

“Maybe they know the truth.” Gamora turned onto her back once more, folding her hands neatly on her stomach. “That it survived. That there’s food, and life. Fresh air, air that we can breathe.”

“Maybe, but it can’t be better than what they have now.” Nebula paused. “There is nothing here for anyone. Not even us.”

“You don’t _know_ that, Nebula,” Gamora protested. “Our home planets were dying when we were babies. Father took us to _this_ planet for a reason.”

“He is not our father,” Nebula said darkly. “He is a man...who tells us to call him that.”

The flap of their tent was thrown open, casting a ray of blinding sunlight across their faces. They both squinted to see better, but regretted it instantly when an awful, gaunt face peered inside to sneer at them. “You dare waste firewood during the daytime, child?”

“Father gave us three hours to sleep before we leave at sunset,” Nebula snarled in return. “Leave us alone, Maw.”

“That’s _General_ Maw to you,” he said smugly. “And I’m failing to hear the reason for your need for fire.”

“I was cold,” Gamora volunteered, sitting up in her cot and shivering exaggeratedly. “I didn’t want to take another blanket. Firewood is less wasteful than fabric.”

Maw retreated, bowing his head respectfully as he did. “Forgive my rudeness, _heda_. Sleep well, and I will send Proxima to wake you before we leave.”

The moment he disappeared from earshot, Nebula snorted. “You are such a _hainofi_.”

“I am no princess,” Gamora said haughtily, lying back down. “I’m the future commander, and I will be better than Father. I have to be.” Nebula merely scoffed and rolled over again, snuggling into the scratchy sheets, willing herself to fall asleep against the backdrop of noise outside, the armies chatting and rattling about, calling out orders and suiting up for one last raid before dark. Gamora, meanwhile, stared up at the small gap in the top of the tent, the daylight streaming in, highlighting the dust that danced in the air above the crackling fire. “I _have_ to be,” she repeated, just barely above a whisper.

* * *

“Peter?” The door creaked open slowly; he saw her antennae before he saw her face. “Can I come in?”

“It’s _your_ room, too,” Peter mumbled, burying his face back into his pillow. “What d’you want?”

Mantis tiptoed into the room and hopped up onto the foot of his bed, swinging her legs over the edge. She folded her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs nervously. “Renie says that people talk about Mama and Daddy a lot. She told me the Council don’t know if Daddy can be a good Chancellor if he cannot be a good ‘family man’ to us and Mama. What does that mean?”

“Well...what do you feel when he’s here?” Peter asked, lifting his head to meet her puzzled expression.

“I feel...love,” Mantis said, though she sounded uncertain. “They love each other, and they love us.”

“But if Dad loves us, then why doesn’t he talk to us? He don’t even look at you before he leaves in the morning,” Peter grumbled. “He doesn’t tell Mom anything, either. It’s like he’s not really here. Maybe he isn’t a ‘family man’. He’s just...a man.”

“Do you think he is doing it again?” Her voice sounded impossibly small. “Like he did with my real mom.”

“I dunno...maybe.” Peter threw back his sheets and sat up, joining Mantis at the end of his bed. He gently placed his hand over hers. “Sorry ‘bout yelling earlier. I don’t mean to scare you. I’m just real mad at him.”

“You gotta tell Mama that you are sorry, too,” Mantis insisted. “She feels very sad. She has been feeling sad all the time. I do not think she likes thinking about what Daddy might be doing when he is not here.”

“None of us do,” Peter sighed, sinking into Mantis’s side. He swung his legs beside hers, matching her pace, enjoying the way it made her giggle. Just as the tension seemed to evaporate out of both of their bodies, his foot caught on something just underneath his bed. “Ow!”

Mantis slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, peering underneath. Her large eyes grew even wider at what she saw - a door handle, leading to the crawlspace under the floor. She sat back on her behind, pulling her knees into her chest. “It is just like the one in our first apartment. Where Daddy used to make me sleep, when no one was s’posed to know who I was.”

“Don’t think about that stuff, okay? You’re gonna make the hurt come back.” Peter held out his hand for her to take. She reluctantly accepted it, allowing him to pull her back onto the bed, into his arms. “No one’s gonna make you hide under the floor again.”

She sniffled. “But...the Council does not like me, ‘cos of my powers. They say that I scare people. That I am a...a...a burden.” She struggled to recall the word that was still foreign to her young mind, and yet simultaneously made her terrified of her own existence.

“You’re not,” Peter promised. “You’re my baby sister, and you’re Mom’s little girl, an’ you got friends and teachers who like you a whole lot. You ain’t a burden, Mantis. You’re a person.”

“He’s right.” They both looked up to see Meredith leaning against the doorframe, watching them fondly. “Don’t think that way, baby. You’re loved. You are _so_ loved. You feel that, don’t you?”

A smile crept across Mantis’s face. “Yes, Mama.” She then turned to Peter and fixed him with a knowing look, silently urging him to apologize.

“Sorry about getting mad, Mom,” Peter said, his shoulders slumping. “I know I shouldn’t be yellin’, or talkin’ about getting floated like it’s nothin’. I just want Dad to care about us.”

“He does, Peter. He’s just really, _really_ busy right now, and he has to put Chancellor duties first. When it’s all over, whatever it is he’s doing, he’s going to put being part of this family first,” Meredith said gently, kneeling in front of them both. She held out her hands to them, smiling when they immediately accepted, and squeezed in reassurance. “Now...since it’s just the three of us tonight, I think I can convince Nelia to get me some dessert rations for you two. How does that sound?”

They both cheered, letting her go to jump off the bed and run out into the living room in excitement. Meredith watched them go before turning back to look at the crawlspace door, twisting her wedding band consideringly around her finger. She straightened up, sighing, and followed them with a false smile.

* * *

The darkness crept in without much fanfare, and Thanos’s army was on their way, crossing back through the forest to return to Sanctuary. Gamora and Nebula were placed in the middle of the proceedings that were travelling by horseback, surrounded by soldiers, though they carried weapons of their own. The two of them kept quiet, their hoods drawn over their eyes, so they could eavesdrop on the conversations carried out by the nearby Black Order generals.

“Today’s raid would have been more successful if Father had been there,” Proxima said derisively. “Instead, he chose to remain behind and train those... _branwodas_. He could have done that any other day, any other place, and he picked today, of all days. When we needed him.”

“You question his decisions?” Corvus said, raising an eyebrow. “We had a near-flawless victory against Azgeda without his help and you _still_ find something to complain about.”

“Flawless? We are carrying home fifteen soldiers on stretchers, and seven in _bags_ ,” Proxima snapped. “You are not the one who has to tell our people when their husbands and wives didn’t make it. _I_ am.”

“Do I hear yet another petty argument between lovers? You two amuse me greatly,” Maw simpered, cantering up beside them. Even his horse had an aura of self-importance in its trot. “It is not about winning every battle, generals. It’s about winning the war.”

“Forgive us for not kneeling to kiss Father’s feet at every chance we get,” Corvus said, shaking his head in disgust. “How does the dirt taste without blood, Maw?  After all, you wouldn’t know otherwise, since you never join us in the _real_ war.” Cull grunted his agreement from a few feet behind.

“My role is to utilize my vast array of mental manipulation abilities, not apply brute force like some common thug,” Maw replied. “It takes real skill to do what I do, something I don’t expect you to understand.”

“What _you_ do? You mean supervise _heda_? A real hardship, protecting a ten-year-old girl,” Proxima said bitingly. “It’s an insult to bestow the title on her so early. We should at least wait until the Conclave, see if she can survive for more than thirty seconds.”

“I can, and I will.” Gamora rode up beside Proxima, staring up into her surrogate sister’s blood-red eyes. “I _will_ be the last one in the ring. You’ll see.”

“Even if it means having to face Nebula?” Proxima said smugly. Gamora’s breath hitched. “What if Father asks you to kill her?”

“He wouldn’t,” Gamora said a little too quickly, though she knew it was a lie. Her stomach turned unpleasantly; Proxima sent her one last smirk as the Black Order generals sped up to join Thanos at the front of the line. Gamora fell back to Nebula’s side, suddenly finding it harder to look her way.

They carried on through the forest for what felt like forever, their vision obscured by both the dense treeline and the pitch-black darkness. Conversations began to subside, now replaced by the sounds of stifled yawns and short coughs, with everyone trying hard not to draw too much attention to themselves. Even Nebula was starting to drift off despite resting earlier, the reins going slack in her hands. Gamora was still alert, however, scanning her surroundings diligently, like she’d been taught. She inhaled deeply, finding that something smelled...off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It was only when she saw a flash of orange light in her peripheral vision that she knew exactly what was about to happen.

“ _Bak op_!” she shouted.

The dreamy silence was broken by the sound of bodies hitting the ground, with every last soldier throwing themselves down and covering their heads and necks with their bare hands, their horses whinnying in fright as they were unintentionally dragged down with them, now stranded on their sides. Flaming arrows whistled through the air and whizzed past their ears, sticking into the ground and igniting the pine needles beneath their feet, along with striking a few unfortunate individuals who cried out in pain. Thanos shouted for order, calling for soldiers to fire at the tops of the trees where the snipers were hiding, while others tried to help the wounded back onto their horses and lead them back to Sanctuary.

Proxima knelt by Corvus, cradling him in her arms protectively. “Get up,” she ordered sharply, though her voice shook when she saw the arrow stuck in his shoulder, burning a hole through his armor.

“I can’t,” he panted, struggling to yank out the other one that had hit him in the leg. “Help me, my love.” She didn’t need to be told twice, hefting him over her shoulder and lifting them both onto one of the few horses left standing. After a quick order to Cull to stay behind with Thanos (Maw, unsurprisingly, was long gone), they took off to join the others.

Gamora pulled herself back up onto her horse, dragging Nebula alongside her before she could protest, and rode up to join Thanos at the front. “Fall back, daughters, it’s too dangerous for you here,” he called over the gunfire. He had an expression of grim satisfaction, watching bodies fall out of the trees like ragdolls. Nebula cowered a little behind Gamora’s shoulder at the sight.

“Guns won’t solve this, Father.” Gamora leaned over to grasp his elbow in urgency; he turned back to look down at her, surprised by her boldness.

“You suggest we _bomb_ them, little one?”

“No. I suggest we _run_.” Gamora released him. “If we go now, no one else will have to get hurt. But if we fight...we will lose more people. Good people.”

To her astonishment, Thanos hesitated, staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Then he lifted his head and shouted, “ _Heda sei ban em op_!” Instantly, everyone holstered their weapons and began stampeding down the pathway in pursuit of the others who were now miles and miles ahead, shouting over the chaos and carrying the retreat order down the line while arrows continued to rain down around them.

Gamora’s heart was racing in her throat as she dug her heels into her horse’s sides, breaking into a gallop, keeping herself flat against its neck while trying to block out the cries of the army behind her. Nebula’s fingers were digging into her waist, holding on for dear life, the distance between them and Sanctuary seemingly never getting smaller. It was only when they reached the gates that she finally slowed down, daring herself to look over her shoulder at the soldiers that followed.

She brought them to a stop and climbed off, clutching at her chest, willing her breath to find her again. Nebula collapsed beside her, also panting heavily. “How could you tell?” she rasped.

“Smoke,” Gamora said, letting out a long exhale. “I smelled smoke.” She straightened up and turned to look at Sanctuary, an ill-fitting name for such an imposing ship, and yet, she’d never been happier to see its darkened doors.

Sanctuary was, by far, the most advanced ship on the planet, perhaps the most advanced _thing_ that had ever existed on Terra. When they’d arrived ten years ago, when Gamora and Nebula were babies, Thanos had brought his ship down into a huge stretch of forest that melted into farmland, in hopes of cultivating food instead of relying on rations. That soon became less relevant once people started leaving to start their own clans, refusing to remain under Thanos’s rule. Still, families expanded, and people slowly began spreading across the spaces within Sanctuary’s halls, taking up whole apartments instead of single rooms, now that they’d gone from thousands to hundreds of occupants. Now, when Gamora walked back to her own bunk on the top floor, she could go minutes without seeing another soul. Sanctuary was the hollow, empty shell of its own glory days, and to many, it was nothing more than a cold comfort in a world occupied only by them, and those who betrayed them.

“Gamora.”

She turned, stumbling backward over her own feet at the alarming sight of the entire army coming to a halt in front of her. Nebula retreated to her side, looking apprehensive. Thanos was stood in front of the crowd, facing her, an unsettlingly wide grin on his face. “...Father?”

“You did well, little one. No more lives have been lost tonight.” He stepped aside, gesturing for the crowd to address her.

One particular soldier stepped forward, his eyes shining with gratitude. “We return to our families because of you, _heda_.” He got down on one knee and took off his helmet, holding it over his heart. “Accept our eternal servitude, daughter of Thanos.”

Gamora watched in utter shock as every last member of the _gonakru_ followed suit, kneeling before her like she was their new deity, their perfect god. It felt wrong, somehow, having grown men and women swearing their loyalty to _her_ , a young girl not five feet tall, with no kills to her name. Her hands curled into fists behind her back, her fingernails digging welts into her palms once more. She clenched her jaw.

“Thank you. But remember... _oso gonplei nou ste odon_. The Sky People are coming.”

* * *

Once Meredith managed to steer her children into their seats at the dining table, she made a quick trip to the canteen to pick up their rations - with dessert, of course - and bring it back to their apartment. The three of them chatted idly about school, Meredith’s work, and Mantis’s visit to farm station. It felt...nice, honest, quiet in a way that even Peter’s rambunctious nature could appreciate, until they were interrupted by an alert on the holoscreen.

“Calling all residents to the main deck. The Chancellor has an announcement to make. I repeat, mandatory call for all residents to the main deck.”

Peter perked up instantly. “Is this it, Mom? The big one?”

“It could be,” Meredith said, putting her fork down. “Quick, put on your shoes. Would be bad form for the Chancellor’s family to be late, don’t you think?”

They shuffled out the door a moment later, knowing their dinner was going to go cold, and weaved their way through the halls, struggling against the dense crowd. Even with their status, people seemed unmotivated to let them get by when Meredith politely asked, some even scoffing in her face like she’d committed a great personal insult. “Privileged folk,” one of them muttered under his breath to his companion.

Meredith, having been raised right, opted to bite her tongue, but the moment she spotted a familiar fin bobbing above the crowd, she knew they weren’t going to make it through quietly. “You watch how you talk to them Quills! Meredith saved your damn life jus’ three weeks ago, you ungrateful - ”

“Yondu!” Peter cried happily, reaching for the man making his way towards them. “You’re here, too!”

“Where else would I go? Your daddy would kick my ass if I missed out on his big day,” Yondu snorted, clapping Peter on the back. “I got an actual job outside of teachin’ you how to wrestle, y’know.”

“And _you_ know I don’t approve of you going behind my husband’s back,” Meredith said exasperatedly, falling into step beside Yondu regardless, with Mantis tucked neatly into her side. “There’s no need for Peter to learn how to fight. He don’t wanna be one of your guardsmen.”

“Your boy don’t know what he wants half the time, Mer, but that don’t mean I can’t teach him anyway,” Yondu said airily. “And ‘sides, Kraglin needs a sparring partner.”

“Kraglin’s a teenager, he could _break_ Peter without trying,” Meredith scolded. “Use another one of your guard trainees, not my son. Forget about losing your job, the Chancellor would _float_ you if he knew.”

“Can’t even call him by his name, can you?” Yondu shook his head. “Damn shame.” He leaned around Meredith to grin toothily at Mantis. “Hey, girl, you doin’ alright? Heard you was up at farm station.” Mantis’s shyness evaporated instantly, and she began excitedly repeating all the things she’d told Meredith and Peter earlier, only stopping when they finally arrived at the main deck.

Despite being the “main” area of the ship, it was hardly ever used, and was only open to the public for major events. However, it was a spectacle in itself - the size of a football field and then some, with a large viewing window that spanned across three of its four walls, the vastness of space spelled out for them in all its majesty. There was an elevated stage at the front, and there, Peter and Mantis could see their father waiting with his back turned to the crowd. Mantis called out to him, but her voice was lost in the chatter of the hundreds of people spilling into the room.

Once the deck was packed to its very limits, a hush fell over the crowd, everyone holding their breath in anticipation. Finally, Ego turned around to face them with his usual slick, undeniably charismatic grin. He opened his arms wide. “Our time has come,” he boomed. “I promised the day that I woke you from your chambers fifteen years ago...no, the day that we came up here a _hundred_ years ago, the day that I welcomed you aboard my Ark, that we would be returning home someday. That day, my friends...that day is today.”

“What?” Peter whispered, clutching at Meredith’s arm in disbelief.

“You heard right, Arkadians. Today...we reclaim the Earth.”

The entire room exploded with sound, everyone cheering, clapping, some even bursting into tears of joy as they clutched at each other, jumped, danced, and sung their praises like never before. Peter and Mantis had to hold their hands over their ears; Meredith pulled them both into her side, keeping them close while the entire Ark seemed to shake with the force of everyone’s pure, uncontrollable, un _stoppable_ joy.

The three of them barely heard the rest of the announcement, even after the crowd settled down, where Ego rattled off some statistics and facts that didn’t interest them, or really, anyone much. When he brought his speech to a close, he mentioned the guardsmen placed at every station entrance and exit, ready to answer questions and provide codes for digital instruction booklets on how to prepare for their descent. “That’s my cue,” Yondu muttered. “I’ll see you Quills on the ground.”

“Wait, Yondu - ” Peter tugged on his coat sleeve before he could go. “Are you still gonna teach me how to fight? Y’know, once we’re on Earth?”

“I dunno, boy, your daddy’ll be keepin’ a mighty close eye on you,” Yondu said, smiling ruefully. “Take care of you and your family, alrigh’?” With that, he disappeared into the crowd. Meredith rubbed Peter’s back in sympathy, but the despairing look on his face told her that he definitely still needed his dessert ration.

The citizens began filing off the deck, chatting excitedly to one another, looking more animated than they ever had in their entire existence, because _finally_ , there was something to look forward to, something beyond their day-to-day of utterly joyless monotony. Peter and Mantis, however, only had eyes for their father, and ran the length of the deck towards him the moment a path was cleared. “Dad!” Peter exclaimed.

Ego didn’t miss a beat, immediately sweeping them up into his arms and off their feet. “You made it! It’s a happy day for us all, isn’t it?” he laughed, setting them back down. “And oh, _there’s_ my river lily.”

“Hi, darling.” Meredith was slightly out of breath from chasing her children, but smiled regardless, wrapping her arms around Ego’s waist and kissing his cheek in greeting. “So _this_ is what all that kerfuffle’s been about, huh? No wonder you couldn’t tell me a dang thing.”

“I’m sorry, Mer, you know if I could’ve told you, I would have,” Ego said apologetically. “I know how long you’ve waited for this, and it’s finally here. You get to go home again. You get to be on the planet you’ve _always_ dreamed of returning to, _your_ planet.”

“Oh, it does feel like a dream,” Meredith sighed; her smile was radiant in a way that Peter and Mantis had never really seen before. “We have to celebrate, darling. Won’t you come have dinner with us? I’d love a big ol’ slice of pie, and maybe a song or two before bed. I’ve been itchin’ to play you more of my daddy’s favorites.”

Ego stepped back suddenly, looking at her like she’d sprouted an extra head. “Come on now, Meredith, you know I don’t have time for all that. We’ve got hours of work ahead of us before we even get _close_ to landing, and I’m not letting the Council out of my sight. You know they’ll take over the whole damn bridge if I do!”

“Watch your language,” Meredith said quietly, nodding towards Peter and Mantis. Ego seemed to have already forgotten they were there, looking rather flustered as he smiled tightly in silent apology.

“I’ll come find you before we land,” Ego said shortly, kissing her for a brief moment before he swept out of the room, his dark cape fluttering behind him. Peter and Mantis exchanged resigned looks.

Meredith, not to be deterred, took their hands and walked them right up to the glass, watching as her planet idly went by, just as bright and bold as she remembered it. “Why don’t we take a second before we have to go back? I’d hate to miss out on this view.”

“It is so dark in here, I cannot see anything,” Mantis complained, straining her neck to no avail.

“Wait, lemme - ” With a snap of his fingers, Peter’s hand began to glow faintly, and he held it over Mantis’s head, delighting in the way the light reflected off the glass, illuminating her face. “Better?”

“Thank you,” Mantis beamed. Peter teasingly ruffled her hair in response, both of them seemingly far more relaxed than they had a minute ago.

Meredith smiled in relief. “Earth it is, then. I hope you’ll love it there, darlings. I hope it’s still beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to post this fic for a _very_ long time and it's finally here!! I'm excited for a bunch of reasons - namely, being able to combine some of my favorite tropes I've used before in different ways, writing something (loosely) based off one of my favorite TV shows, and maybe the most important reason of all: featuring Meredith as a major character, which I've never done before but wish I had since she's so wonderful!
> 
> If you've read my previous fics, I'd say this one is most similar to [everybody wants to rule the world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841176) in terms of plot weightiness and worldbuilding. Each chapter will cover one year of their lives (with the exception of both this prologue and chapter one featuring them at age ten), finishing with the epilogue at age eighteen. I'll also provide translations for the Trigedasleng (the language from the TV show) in the endnotes, though since it's based on English, some may be self-explanatory/explained in context and will not be included.
> 
> I have no clue whether this premise will be of interest to anyone else, but I'm certainly having a good time writing it! And I don't necessarily have a set posting schedule (I'll try to post once per month) but I do have the entire thing plotted out in detail, so I promise it will be finished. Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
>  **Trigedasleng translations:**  
>  _yu gonplei stei odon_ \- your fight is over / _oso gonplei nou ste odon_ \- our fight isn't over  
>  _heda_ \- commander / _wanheda_ \- commander of death  
>  _branwoda_ \- idiot  
>  _bak op_ \- go back / _heda sei ban em op_ \- commander says to abandon [it]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for unnamed character deaths, injuries, blood, dry heaving, and Ego and Thanos being assholes to their kids.

“Tell us more about Earth.”

Meredith turned to look at her children, who were seated beside her. They were properly strapped into their seats - she’d checked and double-checked and triple-checked that they were perfect, as she was oft to do with just about everything; what kind of doctor would she be if she wasn’t meticulous? - and gripping their seatbelts so tight, their knuckles were turning white. She was trying not to let them see the way _her_ hands shook, too.

“What do we say, baby?” Meredith reminded him.

“Please?” He smiled angelically.

“I’ll admit, it’s not the most advanced of planets,” Meredith said, sitting back to think. “It’s diverse, though, where all walks of life can live together - or at least, _try_ to. I lived in a place called St. Charles, Missouri, with my mama and daddy. They took me to church every Sunday at St. Peter’s when I was a little girl. My daddy would put on the news after we got home, and I liked to see what was goin’ on out there, outside our little house with a big yard. Wasn’t always so nice, but sometimes, you got to see the real good in humans. Or Terrans, as _your_ daddy likes to call us.”

“Then Earth got destroyed by the bad air,” Peter added. “And that’s when Dad came to save everyone, an’ promised to help restore it with his powers so they could have their planet back.”

“Would _you_ like to tell the story now, Peter?” Meredith teased.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“Anyways, I remember when I first woke up from cryo-sleep, one of the first things I saw was your daddy, standin’ by my side.” Meredith smiled, reminiscing of a time not too long ago. “I asked him what he wanted. He said, ‘I visited your Earth once before. While I was there, I saw some of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen, and I’ve been across the universe’. I thought it was a little strange since we’d never spoken before, so I asked him what he meant. He described these flowers, these blooming, vibrant little red beauties, and I said, ‘you must be talkin’ about the river lily’. He laughed and told me I was just like a river lily - _the_ most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.”

“I like that story, Mama,” Mantis chirped, leaning around Peter to look at her. “It does not sound like Daddy, though.”

“No, he’s...not much like that nowadays, is he?” Meredith let out a false laugh that made Peter’s brows knit together, though he wisely decided not to comment on it. “Sit tight now. They’ve got officers coming ‘round to make sure we’re ready for departure.”

“We’re already here, ma’am,” a raspy voice said above them, causing the three of them to jump, startled by its sudden arrival.

“Kraglin? You’re not an officer yet,” Peter said accusingly.

“No, but cap’n got all his recruits on duty since there’s so many dang people to account for,” Kraglin grumbled, pulling out his holotab. “Can I get your names?”

“...you know our names, Kraglin,” Peter said, squinting at him dubiously. “And is Yondu here? I was hopin’ he could sit with us.”

“Cap’n’s sitting with the Chancellor and the Council, along with all them other important folk,” Kraglin shrugged. “Names, please.”

Frustrated, Peter sat back in his seat with his arms crossed. Meredith patted him half-consolingly, half-reminding him to control his temper, then began to neatly recite their full names for Kraglin’s records. After he left, she turned to Peter. “You know the rules, baby. Families sit together, and Yondu’s a good man and a good friend, but he’s not family.”

“Then why do I see him more than Dad?” Peter shot back.

“Peter!” Meredith exclaimed. “You know, I’ve just about had it with you sayin’ things like that like they don’t hurt. When we get to Earth, you’re...you’re grounded.” She paused, then, realizing the absurdity of her statement, let out a laugh that even caught herself off guard. Peter turned to look at Mantis, wondering if their mother had finally lost it after being cooped up in space for fifteen years as she continued to laugh like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard in her life.

* * *

Gamora woke to her usual morning soundtrack of clanging metal and warrior cries, the smell of oil and sweat permeating every fabric and every surface in every room on Sanctuary. Though she lived on the top floor, thanks in no small part to her status, there always seemed to be something going on in Thanos’s private quarters nearby. He trained constantly, and was never without his most loyal (and frankly, his most morally-corrupt) generals and advisors at his side, consulting on everything from war tactics to technology to governance.

She slipped out of bed, got dressed, and quietly made her way into the kitchen, another room accessible only by Thanos and his “children”, frowning at the sight of an excessive amount of rations that could...well, that could feed their whole army. Through the kitchen’s backdoor was a storage warehouse with rows upon rows of cured meats, a huge indoor vegetable garden (there were shutters covering an opening in Sanctuary’s vast ceiling that cast just the right amount of sunlight over it), and a whole wall of ice boxes that contained seeds and medicine that would last them for centuries. All of this, and she was allowed to speak about none of it to no one.

Gamora never understood why Thanos chose to form a settlement on Terra, of all places. She knew vaguely of its history, its tragedy, its rebirth, but it never stood out to her as particularly desirable compared to all the other places Thanos must have conquered in the past. She wasn’t oblivious to Thanos’s history, however - in fact, he’d told her outright that he had failed to save many planets from their untimely deaths, including hers and Nebula’s, and it meant he had to do a lot of unsavory things in the process. She knew there was a lot more to him than what he claimed to be, and she knew that she didn’t have to be a grown adult to understand that he was no savior. She also knew there was a lot she was still yet to know.

“Gamora.” She turned to see Nebula standing in the doorway, looking unusually tired. “Father has called for both of us.”

“It’s too early for a meeting, isn’t it? I thought people were still healing from last night’s attack,” Gamora commented, but she followed her sister regardless.

A few winding, eerily empty corridors later, the two of them walked up to the door to his war room, recoiling at the unwelcome sight of Proxima and Cull standing guard. “Children,” Proxima said snidely, barely sparing them a glance. Cull grunted.

“Adults,” Nebula snarked back. “Father wants to see us.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Proxima sniffed.

Nebula reeled back, ready to make another retort, but Gamora instead laid a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head in silence. It would do her no good to taunt their older “siblings”, not when they had the ability to kill them in seconds. Gamora smiled tightly at Proxima. “How is Corvus?”

Proxima’s jaw slowly unclenched. “Recovering.” She stepped aside. “Go on.”

They entered the room after receiving one last scowl, courtesy of Cull, and were granted the sight of Thanos stood by his various holoscreens, his back turned to them, Maw at his side. “Daughters,” he said curtly, still fixated on one particular battle plan that was blown up across six adjacent screens. “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Nebula grouched.

Thanos turned, narrowing his eyes in her direction. “Watch your tone, Nebula,” he hissed. “It is time for the Sky People to descend to the ground. As of two hours ago, I’ve received reports from our scouts near Trishanakru that a vessel far larger than Sanctuary has broken through the atmosphere. I suspect we’ll be feeling their impact at any moment.”

“What do we do?” Gamora asked.

“We’ve already initiated a lockdown of all essential areas, and have made the call for all families to retreat to Sanctuary and stay in their quarters. And, of course, the army has already been sent out in pursuit of the invaders.” Thanos’s lip curled in an oddly contemplative snarl. “As for you two...I need children to act as my scouts.”

“And...why is that, Father?” Gamora said carefully.

“It won’t be _all_ children, of course, just you and the other contenders. Your rivals, Gamora,” Thanos hummed, turning back around. Maw let out a delighted tittering noise that made both sisters want to punch him square in the jaw even more than usual. “The army has been ordered to kill groups on sight. But the children are to find isolated stragglers and bring them to me.”

Gamora swallowed. “Okay. When do we leave?”

“Now. And pack some rations,” Thanos said, fully directing his attention back to the screens, sweeping through page after page of his battle plans, arranging and rearranging as he saw fit. “Do not return until you have something of interest.”

* * *

Peter didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was waking up, only he hadn’t exactly fallen asleep, he had been knocked out cold. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, blinking blearily into the darkness. It wasn’t exactly dark, either; there was a bright red light flashing over and over again like a silent siren. Before he could discern what was happening, though, he felt something run into his eyes; Peter yelped in surprise and began wiping it out with the heels of his palms. Whatever it was, it was sticky and slightly warm to the touch.

He stumbled to his feet, trying to recall where he’d been last and _when_ that had been, squinting at his pitch-black surroundings. _We were headin’ to Earth_ , Peter thought, his scattered brain still buzzing with adrenaline, made even more disoriented by the flashing lights. _Then some crazy stuff started happening when we broke through the atmosphere, and people were freaking out - Mantis! Mom!_ He looked down at his feet, where he could vaguely make out the silhouettes of Mantis sprawled out on top of Meredith, almost like she’d been thrown there. It was then that he realized the whole ship had crash-landed sideways; their seats were completely tipped in the other direction, the walls crushed against the ground.

Peter knelt beside them, shaking their shoulders urgently. “Mom! Mantis! C’mon, you gotta wake up!” He felt a knot of anxiety tying itself up in his stomach the longer they didn’t respond. “I think we’re on Earth, I don’t know why I don’t see no one else, I - Mom, I’m scared, I don’t wanna, I need, I - ”

“Quill?”

He let out a sob of relief, running in the direction of the familiar voice and flinging his arms around his waist. “Yondu!”

“Good to see you’re in one piece, though you’re bleedin’ a bit,” Yondu said gruffly, patting him awkwardly on the back. He drew a dusty rag from his utility belt and wiped Peter’s forehead; he belatedly became dizzy at the realization of what the sticky substance was. “Your mom and sister?”

“They ain’t getting up,” Peter said, tugging on Yondu’s sleeve to pull him back towards them. “What happened, Yondu, what’s goin’ on?”

“Well, to make a long story short - we crashed. Real bad,” Yondu sighed, lifting his flashlight a little higher, casting it over Meredith and Mantis’s faces. “Whole sections of the ship, they didn’t make it. Others, like you, were lucky. Relatively, o’ course. Been spending the last hour tryin’ to find survivors. Your mama and sister, I see their shoulders movin’, they’re breathin’, they’re okay. We’re gonna need Meredith and her team to help with some pretty nasty wounds - if she’s up to it, o’ course.”

“What about Dad?” Peter looked at him expectantly. “He said he was gonna come find us before we landed, and I thought he was gonna get us to sit with him on the command bridge.” He hung his head. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Dunno what to tell you, boy,” Yondu said, his discomfort rapidly growing. “But let’s get you and your family outta here. Don’t need you seeing all this mess.” He gestured aimlessly at the other unmoving bodies. Peter didn’t want to think about which ones were never going to move again, or he was sure to throw up.

A few of Yondu’s guardsmen came in to help carry out the survivors, while Peter sat impatiently on a cot in one of the makeshift medical tents that the nurses had set up just outside. He tried not to look at the smoldering remains of the Ark, how crumpled and despondent some sections looked, while other parts looked relatively salvageable. Peter certainly couldn’t appreciate his first breath of fresh air, either, or the feeling of wind in his hair, or the beautiful lake on the other side of the tent. It all felt sour, it felt undeserved, it felt wrong.

“You doing okay, Peter?” the nurse asked kindly. “I took a look at your mom and your sister, they’re gonna be just fine. Good chance of a mild concussion, and Meredith’s got a bit of a dislocated shoulder, but nothing some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

“I’m not okay,” Peter mumbled. “People are dead.”

His face fell. “I know. But we can’t think about that right now, alright? We have to help the living.”

Another ten minutes passed before the tent flapped open, but instead of the faces that Peter wanted to see more than anything else in their new world, he saw the cape first instead of its wearer. “Peter! Son, are you okay?”

“Everyone keeps askin’ me that,” Peter grouched, turning the other way. “What am I s’posed to say when people are _dead_ , Dad?!”

“Whoa, now! Watch your tone,” Ego snapped, his face instantly contorting into something more cruel. He stormed over to Peter and grabbed his face, pinching his chin with one hand until Peter’s cheeks ached from the pressure. “What do you say, Peter?” The nurse let out a quiet gasp of surprise and promptly ran out of the tent.

“Sorry,” Peter said, his voice still hardened. Ego released him, though he didn’t look satisfied. Before he could respond, though, the tent opened yet again, and Meredith stormed in like a hurricane, still wrapped in a shock blanket. She whipped it off and promptly flung it at Ego, though it barely grazed his shoulder on its way down.

“Meredith!” Ego exclaimed, chuckling like she merely amused him.

She let out a feral growl in return. “I oughta give you a piece of my mind right now,” Meredith hissed. “You had no business bringin’ us down here when there was even a _chance_ of death!”

“There’s _always_ a chance of death, sweetheart, that’s how _life_ works,” Ego said, waving his hand dismissively. “You think I didn’t calculate every single possibility, figure out every possible thing that could go wrong? You really think that little of me, Meredith?”

“Don’t make this about what _I_ think of you, though I have plenty more thoughts I’d like to share,” Meredith snapped, picking up her blanket and wrapping it back around her body, shivering, though not from the blustery cold. “You got an estimate on how many people we’ve lost today? Or are you too busy going ‘round, pretendin’ everything’s just peachy?”

“Mom,” Peter interrupted. “Where’s Mantis?”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Here I am ramblin’, and I haven’t even checked up on you yet.” Meredith went to Peter’s side, gently prodding along his skull and ribcage even though he’d already been checked a half-dozen times by her best nurses. She then held his face in both hands, cupping his cheeks, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Mantis is getting cleaned up a few tents down, she knows to come straight here after she’s done. Peter...are you gonna be okay?”

Peter choked out an insincere laugh. “I think so.”

Ego cleared his throat loudly from behind them. “I have to speak with the Council about setting up base here. Think we landed in a mighty good spot - lots of trees and water. It’ll be great support for the manufacturing stations.”

“Don’t you pretend you did a good thing here, Ego,” Meredith said, her voice scarily low. “And don’t you pretend our conversation is done, either. I’ve got plenty more to say.”

“I can tell,” Ego said blithely, turning and walking right out, his expression decidedly neutral. Meredith seethed at his retreating back, wrapping her arms around Peter even tighter.

“People are dead, Mom,” Peter mumbled into her shoulder; he was starting to sound like a broken record.

“We’ll do right by ‘em, baby,” Meredith promised, rubbing his back reassuringly. “Once we clean up the mess your daddy made, we’ll have a celebration of life, right out there on the lake. Did you see it?”

“Yeah.” He sank into her, drowning himself in her warmth, the smell of her perfume and shampoo, unable to hold up his own bodyweight for even one more second. “Yeah, it was nice.”

* * *

“Good morning, _heda_.” Gamora turned to see a rather snide-looking group of children around her age with a few that seemed significantly older, standing behind her, arms folded tightly across their chests. The first thing she noticed, aside from their unfriendly faces, was the weapons slung on their backs or holstered at their hips. “I hear we are following your greatness today.”

“Hey! _I_ was the one who saved your parents’ lives yesterday,” Gamora snapped.

“Forgive us for not bowing at your feet,” another child sneered, one of the older ones, one who seemed far too old to be looking at Gamora with such unwarranted scorn. “Anyone with half a brain would have done the same.”

Gamora glanced over at Nebula, who merely shrugged; she was barely paying attention to their conversation. Unfortunately, it was like most conversations between them and other children, whether during classes or training sessions or unwanted encounters in the halls, and it hardly elicited a reaction out of Nebula anymore. Simply put, there was nothing that would convince the others that Gamora was worthy of what she’d been given.

“We’re losing light,” Gamora said coldly, turning back to look at the others. “We have our orders and our gear. Meet back here at sunset.” She then called for everyone to form small groups, and unsurprisingly, the majority immediately moved away from the girls so they could cluster up together, then took off in different directions the second they were ready, not bothering to announce their departure. Only one child was left standing, one that Gamora had seen many times before, one who never quite seemed to find his footing with the others. “Join us, Drax.”

“Are you sure, _heda_?” he asked, stepping forward regardless. “I would not want to slow you down.”

“You won’t. We won’t let you,” Gamora said, smiling faintly. “I’ve seen you train...you’re really good. I think your parents would be proud.” Drax’s face crumpled a little at the mention of them, but he quickly recovered, nodding and falling into step beside the sisters.

The three of them ventured across a seemingly endless field of lush grass, far away from everyone else, who had gone for the trees. They knew it left them open, vulnerable to attack, but Gamora told herself she couldn’t afford to be scared. She told herself that Thanos didn’t want to see her until they brought back a hostage. She told herself not to think about what would happen if she didn’t.

Of course, she hated the idea, but she was never going to tell him that. She had always been curious about the legendary _skaikru_ , the people who were saved by a mysterious force right before their planet fell apart. They weren’t even considered Terran anymore, given that they’d been away from Earth for a hundred years, with children who had never breathed fresh air or tasted water that wasn’t artificially created. Meanwhile, the forest, the ocean, the wind and snow, it was all she’d ever known, but Gamora knew she wasn’t truly Terran, either. The idea of designating the Sky People as some “other” who were to be immediately tortured or killed for returning to what had been theirs disgusted her, but she knew no amount of reasoning would change Thanos’s bloodlust. His ongoing war with other factions that had split off from them when they first arrived was proof enough.

“I hear the river, _heda_ ,” Drax called; he was a good thirty feet in front of them, gesturing for them to catch up.

“Call me Gamora,” she insisted, her and Nebula jogging up beside him. “If _skaikru_ were smart, they wouldn’t be out here. They would hide in the trees.”

“Then why did we not _go_ to the trees?” Drax asked curiously.

“Because Gamora doesn’t want to be around the others,” Nebula interjected, smirking.

“ _Because_ we are looking for stragglers, not the entire group. If they ran or got kicked out, they would be far away from their camp,” Gamora reasoned, elbowing her sister in warning. Nebula’s face fell a little; it was hard to argue with that. “Do you see mud trails?”

“Why?” Nebula grumbled. “There’s mud _everywhere_.”

“It means someone walked across the river, and we could follow it to see where they went,” Drax volunteered. “The _skaikru_ don’t know how to cover their tracks like we do.”

“Right,” Gamora nodded, pleased. “Let’s go.”

She and Drax immediately started walking again, while Nebula trailed behind sullenly, folding her arms across her chest. As they continued on, their eyes trained on the ground and the sky, Gamora couldn’t help but watch Drax, too. She didn’t know his story, aside from his parents being long dead, but he seemed like the type who could handle a fight. The other children didn’t like him much, but she occasionally saw him spending time in the Sanctuary’s hangar bay with two young engineering prodigies who worked under one of Thanos’s generals, Rocket and Groot. She wasn’t sure how their companionship had started, but she’d never been curious enough to ask. She was almost curious enough to ask now.

“ _Heda_?” His voice broke into her thoughts.

“I said not to call me that,” she countered.

“Mud, like you said,” he said simply, pointing. Gamora followed his line of sight and jogged over, crouching down by the tracks. She wasn’t skilled enough to place any identifiers - height, weight, age - but at least it would keep them from wandering aimlessly forever.

Gamora straightened up, sucking in an unsteady breath. “Follow me.”

* * *

The mood at Arkadia was appropriately somber, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. Ego had made his usual rousing speech, swearing not to give up, to not let the “sacrifices” (and oh, how Peter and Meredith _hated_ that word, like their deaths had been planned somehow) of the dead be in vain. It didn’t have the effect he wanted, much to Meredith’s secret satisfaction, and there were already whispers among their people that a new Chancellor was to be called for on the ground.

The ship, Ego’s beloved ship, was still a smoking husk of what it was just hours ago, and no one wanted to be reminded of the smell of death, so more tents were set up in a temporary formation, grouped less by station and affiliation, and more by relationships, families and friends who used to go weeks without seeing each other, who were now able to cross boundaries and set their own. Peter and Mantis went to take a nap in their tent after Ego’s speech, exhausted by the day’s events and their father’s empty promises.

“Are you awake, Peter?” Mantis mumbled, lifting herself up onto her elbows. Peter groaned and rolled onto his back. “Are you okay?”

“You tell me,” he snapped, though Mantis didn’t seem offended by his tone. “Everyone keeps askin’ me that like I’m s’posed to be okay with people being dead. People who didn’t do nothing.”

“There are _always_ people who die who did not do anything.” Mantis turned away from him, unable to look Peter in the eye. “My real mama. For having me.”

Peter sighed, the fight leaving his body as he exhaled. “I wish Mom would tell us what happened, so I know _what_ to be mad at Dad for.”

“You are always mad at him, though,” Mantis said blithely. “You are mad when he _is_ here, and when he is not.”

“Yeah, what’s your point?”

“I think it hurts you more than it hurts him,” Mantis observed. “Maybe you should talk.”

“Yeah, right,” Peter scoffed, also rolling over so he was facing away from her, leaving them back-to-back. He curled further into his scratchy blankets and flat pillow, sorely missing his cold, unfriendly bunk back in their little apartment. It was hard for him to process that he would never sleep there again, considering he was almost certain he was going to live his entire life on the Ark, wasting his days and nights dreaming about Earth the way it was never going to be.

“I am telling you what you feel,” Mantis said, scrunching up her nose in anger at him, though he obviously couldn’t see her face. She got to her feet, staring down at him with fury burning in her eyes. “You said to tell you.”

He sighed again, burrowing into himself, wishing everything and everyone would just...go back to the way it was. The way he never knew he could want so badly. “Leave me alone, Mantis.” He heard her irritated grunt and the stomp of her feet, then watched her leave.

It didn’t take long for the tent flaps to open again, though a whiff of perfume told him that it wasn’t his sister. “You two fighting again?” Meredith said sternly, kneeling by his side. “Oh, baby.”

“Happens all the time, don’t gotta fuss about it,” Peter retorted.

“Sure. You’re both young and stubborn as mules.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “It’s a Terran animal. They sure love to dig their heels in the dirt when they don’t wanna go nowhere. Anyways, just because it happens all the time, that doesn’t mean it should. A few harmless fights can turn into a big one real quick, and next thing you know, you never talk again. Or you try to hurt each other in ways that only _you_ know how.” She sighed, her intuition nagging at her brain, telling her to say it before Peter did. “Like me and your daddy.”

“But you still love him,” Peter said. He finally sat up, hugging his knees into his chest. “Or...I mean, yeah, you do, right?”

Meredith smiled another false smile. “Of course, Peter. Don’t you?”

Peter hesitated. “It’s hard sometimes. ‘Specially when he let all those people die.”

She reached out to cup his face with her hand, gently running her thumb over his cheek. “I’m mad at him, too. I’m _furious_. But you see, life ain’t as easy as one good path and one bad one. Sometimes it’s lots of paths that eventually lead to the right place, but getting there is what hurts. And sometimes, the paths don’t connect or make sense, and that makes it even harder. Your daddy’s doing the best he can with what he has, and I think if he tells us what happened, we can try to understand. Okay?”

He nodded, cracking the tiniest of smiles. “Okay.”

“Oh, and Yondu wants to see you, by the way. I already told him I don’t want to hear nothing about him training you again, but heaven knows neither of you listen to me,” Meredith chuckled. She took him by the hand and led him out of the tent to where Yondu was stationed, and for the first time, they could both appreciate the bite of fresh air along the way. “Come find me at the medical section when you’re done, alright? We’ll go have dinner together.” She kissed him briefly on the forehead before leaving, her mind already racing with the patients she had yet to see.

The guards’ quarters were merely just another long row of tents, most of which were unoccupied since the guardsmen were out helping the other Arkadians set up their temporary base, but Peter still couldn’t help but swallow down the lump in his throat. It was true; he had no interest in becoming a member of the guard since it felt all too rigid for him, too routine. He did like the uniform, though, and he did like Yondu and Kraglin, even though the rest of the guardsmen intimidated him. They watched him almost _too_ closely, given that he was the Chancellor’s son, and he didn’t like that particular kind of attention. It was hard to do anything remotely adventurous with so many eyes following him everywhere he went.

“What took you so long, boy?” Yondu demanded. He was sitting at the front of the tent enclosure, his feet kicked up on a small, half-broken cooler. He seemed far less shaken than when he’d found Peter in the wreckage, though it was pretty typical of Yondu’s usual demeanor.

“Mom wanted to talk,” Peter protested. “She didn't even _say_ nothin’ about you ‘til the end.” His eyes then brightened. “So are we gonna train more?”

“Surprised you can even think about something like that righ’ now,” Yondu shrugged.

“I just wanna think about somethin’ else, I guess,” Peter said quietly. “Me and Mantis had a fight, and I don’t wanna talk to Dad. So...are we?”

“Look, boy, there’s only one person I’m more scared of than your daddy, and that’s your mama,” Yondu said, chuckling wryly. Still, he gestured for Peter to come closer and sit beside him. “I know I told her it was for Kraglin, but she’s right. I could get any ol’ guard of mine to train with him. I’m doing it for _you_. But she’s your mama, and she knows you better than I do. So...we gotta stop.”

“But - ” Peter cut himself off, unsure of what to say. “We can still hang out and stuff, right?”

“What you wanna hang around an old man like me for?” Yondu exclaimed. “Don’t you got friends your own age?”

Peter shuffled uncomfortably, wringing his hands, and Yondu suddenly regretted asking. “Not really,” he mumbled. “No one wants to hang out with the Chancellor’s kids. Everyone thinks we’re weirdos for having powers, and that if they do somethin’ wrong, we’re gonna ask Dad to float ‘em.”

Yondu watched Peter carefully, watched his head hang a little lower, watched the corners of his mouth droop a little in despondence. He never quite knew what to say when Peter was in one of his moods - which was often - given that he’d never really had someone so young follow him around before. Sure, he had the occasional overbearing parent who insisted he train their “darling” son or daughter, but the child themselves were usually uninterested in the ordeal. Peter, on the other hand, had been in Yondu’s life since he was born, back when Ego liked to bring his infant son to meetings and show him off, excited that his Celestial powers were already beginning to manifest. Personally, Yondu thought it was more impressive that baby Peter was the only person who could make even the coldest of Council members smile.

“Just don’t be botherin’ me when I’m on duty, got it?” Yondu finally said, his voice gruff. Peter’s eyes lit up.

“Duties? What kind?” Peter asked. “Can I come?”

Yondu sighed, getting to his feet and gesturing for Peter to follow. “Guess your mama can’t fault me if you tag along on my rounds. C’mon, I hear there’s something goin’ on at hydra station.”

* * *

Gamora let out a surprisingly labored breath, sinking down onto a nearby fallen log, the palms of her hands digging into the wood grain, leaving painfully sharp welts as if to remind her of the time she was wasting. “I need a second. Let’s eat.”

Nebula looked down at her derisively. “Some _heda_ you are. It’s only been three hours.” Gamora glared back, silently pulling her rations out of her bag and beginning to eat; she clearly wasn’t giving them a choice. Drax shrugged, not wanting to argue with her, and sat down to eat as well.

The mud trail they’d been following had eventually led to nowhere, drying up somewhere not too far from where they’d started, making it indistinguishable from the forest ground. Gamora, however, wasn’t about to admit she’d made a mistake, and was carrying on in the same direction. She supposed Nebula saw right through her, but she wasn’t certain about Drax. He seemed attentive for someone who barely knew her, but then again, maybe he just needed a friend. She also wondered whether the other children had succeeded already, if someone was bringing back a hostage this very minute. Thanos would probably - no, _definitely_ \- be disappointed if she wasn’t the first one back, would have some fresh form of torture ready in anticipation of her failure. Gamora glanced down at her arm, turning it over so she was looking at the inside of her wrist; a small glint of silver reflected back, reminding her of the last time she'd failed.

“What is that, _heda_?”

At the sound of Drax’s voice, she quickly pulled her sleeve down over her wrist. “Nothing.”

“Are you hurt?” Drax persisted, reaching for her arm.

“Old injury,” Gamora replied shortly, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “We should go.”

They continued on for some time, finding themselves starting to shiver when they came close to the border of Azgeda territory. Of all the warring nations, they were the coldest, both figuratively _and_ literally, and even Nebula could muster up something resembling sympathy for any poor _skaikru_ soul that ended up on their land. Not enough sympathy, however, to cross their borders in search of stragglers.

“This is stupid,” Nebula announced loudly about an hour later. “Who would stop us if we just stayed out here forever and never went back?”

“We’d die, Nebula,” Gamora reminded her. “Come on, we _have_ to do this.”

“No, _you_ do. No matter what _I_ do, Father won’t care anyway,” Nebula said, sulking, her inky eyes narrowed to slits.

“You don’t know that,” Gamora protested. “If you bring someone back, if you tell him it was all you - ”

It only seemed to agitate Nebula further; she reared back to spit at Gamora, disgusted by her unwanted empathy, and then turned and began sprinting out of the forest and into the open, toward the dreaded border. Nebula screamed at the top of her lungs, something feral and raw and unintelligible that made Gamora’s heart stop for a split second, paralyzed with disbelief. She then went running after her, keeping her head low, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted by snipers in the tall grass; she could just barely hear Drax’s thundering footsteps behind her over the pounding of her heart against her ribcage.

Gamora wanted to call out, but she knew Azgeda warriors were notorious for hiding themselves right outside their walls, and she wasn’t about to announce where she was. The further she went, the harder it was to see, and all she could see was a blurry glimpse of Nebula just up ahead, making it impossible to figure out which direction she was going, swerving and turning at random.

Nebula’s sustained cry was interrupted by a sudden panicked yelp, followed by a sickening crunch. Gamora felt her heart leap in her throat, threatening to spill right out, and she sprinted faster, at a speed she didn’t know she was capable of. She and Drax came to a stop and nearly skidded right into the hole that Nebula had fallen into.

It was at least ten square feet across, and a good fifteen feet deep; laid on top of its opening was an intricately weaved net of grass and branches with a break in the middle, clearly where Nebula had taken one wrong step. She now laid at the bottom in a crumpled, undignified heap, still conscious and breathing, but now clutching at her broken leg. Nebula clenched her jaw, staring up at them with a burning hatred in her eyes as if they’d put her there.

“I see guards, _heda_ ,” Drax said, his voice trembling. “What do we do?”

“Gamora.” Astonished, Gamora looked down to see her sister’s expression had changed to something that seemed far more suitable for the child that she was than the adult she was trying to be, the hardness of her eyes melting away in favor of desperation. She grappled at the side of the pit, but the dirt crumbled beneath her fingers.

Gamora turned to look back at Drax, unsure if Nebula wanted her pity. “Carry her back to camp. I’ll fight the guards,” she ordered, missing the way her sister’s face fell.

“They are adults, Gamora. You are just a child,” Drax protested.

Gamora scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “So _now_ my name is Gamora. I am your _heda_ , and you _will_ listen to me. Take my sister. I’ll follow.”

Drax nodded, though it wasn’t without apprehension. He knelt on the ground so he could contort the net into a makeshift rope for Nebula, his brow furrowed with effort. Gamora smiled tightly at her sister, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time she’d ever see her again. She then turned, gritting her teeth, and began running toward the oncoming rush of Azgeda warriors.

* * *

Dinner was about as tense as could be expected, with every last Arkadian either sitting in stone-faced silence, shouting and spitting in the faces of the Council members who eventually retreated to the safety (and cowardice) of their own quarters, or sobbing into their stews. Even Ego had to return to his own tent by the time it was dark, unable to face the faces of his people, who at best, felt betrayed, but at worst, were vengeful.

Upon his return, he found Meredith, Peter, and Mantis sitting on the ground, ignoring the cots he’d lined up neatly along the back wall. The children were snuggled into Meredith’s side while she read to them, laughing and interjecting with comments in the appropriate (or in Peter’s case, inappropriate) places. They all looked up at the sound of his footsteps, genuinely surprised to see him. “Ego,” Meredith said, slowly closing the book over her thumb, holding her place. “You’re back early.”

“You never came to dinner,” Ego said airily, striding over to the cots so he could sit down and take off his boots, keeping his back to his family.

“Peter wanted to eat with the guardsmen. Kraglin’s a very good friend of his,” Meredith added.

Ego glanced over his shoulder to look at them, his eyes hard. “I know who my son is friends with,” he said shortly. “But it’s Yondu you’ve gone and gotten attached to, isn’t it, son?”

“I like ‘em both,” Peter said carefully, shrugging. Ego didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he reached for the haphazardly-drawn blueprints in his bag and passed it to Meredith, his face relaxing into a gentle smile at the crease that formed between her brows in confusion.

“Construction starts tomorrow,” Ego said, wanting to lean over and press his thumb to her forehead, smooth out her worries, but he wisely decided against it.

“This is...it’s a _mansion_ , baby,” Meredith finally said, her eyes still roaming over the building plans. “Are you gonna have the strength to make that many big ol’ houses for everyone?”

“Come on now, Mer, that’s _our_ house,” Ego chuckled. “Everyone else will get something a little more...standard. Except for the council members, of course, you know how they get. And farm station will need extra land for cultivating - ”

“We don’t need all that space, it’s only us and two kids,” Meredith interrupted. “Do you even know that there’s some families with over twelve people that lived in them tiny apartments on the Ark? Now _they_ could use a big house.”

“I’m going to build you a ballroom, just like the ones you described,” Ego continued like he hadn’t heard her. “Big windows, lots of light, columns that go all the way up to the ceiling - I thought you’d like that, darling. So we can have a proper dance, whenever we want.”

“I do like that idea,” Meredith admitted. “But we don’t need a kitchen with all these extra little gadgets, or _three_ sitting rooms. And I think Peter and Mantis can live with sharin’ a bathroom. I had a brother growin’ up, we survived.” Her expression faltered. “Or I guess... _I_ did.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother, Mama,” Mantis chirped, her large eyes flickering back and forth between them. Peter clapped a hand over her mouth before she could inquire further, his blood running cold in realization of what Meredith meant.

“This is what we deserve, Meredith,” Ego insisted. “We’ve been stuck in that tiny little place on the Ark for too long now, it’s about time we get some breathing room.”

“‘We’? You were only home two nights a week, if you were there at all!” Meredith shot to her feet; her cheeks were flushed red. “And I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean by ‘deserve’. What makes us better than any of the rest? We ain’t gods, Ego, we’re just like everyone else.”

“That’s the thing, sweetheart, we really aren’t,” Ego sneered, his voice rising. “I’m the chancellor, you’re the head medic, and we know Peter’s gonna follow in his old man’s footsteps when he’s older, isn’t that right, Peter?” He didn’t bother looking to see if Peter so much as reacted. “And if you think we should still be in a tiny little dump just so we can _be_ ‘like everyone else’, you got some strange ideas about how to live!”

“And I don’t know where you got _your_ idea that you could talk to me like that,” Meredith’s eyes were blazing with a kind of fury that neither of her children had ever seen. Mantis cowered behind Peter, peering gingerly over his shoulder. “We don’t need a big house, we never did. We don’t need _more_ space between us, we need _less_ , so maybe we can go back to being a family. If we ever _were_ a family.”

“Meredith - ”

“Do you know how embarrassin’ it is, going about my day, hearin’ all the things people say about you? All them rumors about what you do when you’re not home, who you’re _really_ with, who Mantis _really_ belongs to?”

Mantis gasped. Peter pulled her into his arms so he could steady her breathing against his chest, wishing fiercely that he could stop the sobs that rattled through her throat. “Mom, c’mon, you’re scarin’ her.”

Meredith turned to look at her children then, almost as if she’d forgotten they were there, and the fire in her eyes extinguished, her expression melting back into something more recognizable. She knelt beside them, reaching for Mantis. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - ”

Mantis merely curled into Peter further, rejecting Meredith’s plea. “You want him to hurt,” she mumbled. “Why does everyone want to hurt each other so much?”

“It’s what Terrans do, Mantis,” Ego said coolly. It was the first time he’d said her name in days. “Come on now, we’re just having a little argument. Nothing to get upset about.”

“I do not just feel what is in here, but everything out _there_ , too,” Mantis said, slowly unravelling herself from Peter’s grasp. “Everyone is sad...and angry. They want to hurt you.” She paused. “I feel...others. People I do not know. They want to hurt you, too.” Peter shivered.

Ego knelt in front of her, bringing them eye-to-eye, gripping her shoulders so hard that his knuckles went white. “And what does that mean?”

“ _Frag emo op_!”

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Peter felt his whole world spin on its axis, only this time he was conscious enough to remember it - remember the way Meredith immediately leapt to cover them both, pinning him and Mantis to the ground, remember the way their tent went up in flames, crackling and hissing and spitting as the fire devoured itself, remember the way Ego went charging out into the open with his hands outstretched, powers at full blast, searing blinding white light across the expanse of their settlement, roaring with anger.

“What’s happening?” Peter exclaimed frantically once he found his voice again, barely noticing the sour taste of dirt in his mouth or the scrapes on his elbows and knees.

“I don’t know, baby, but stay calm,” Meredith murmured, helping to push his hair away from his eyes, though she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “We gotta get movin’ before we inhale too much smoke. Follow me.”

The three of them belly-crawled across the ground, keeping themselves beneath the flames that licked at their heels and the putrid air that danced in their throats. After what felt like the longest minute of their lives, Meredith pulled them both to their feet and they all began to profusely cough what felt like the entire contents of their lungs out. “Wait - what - what about Dad?” Peter wheezed. “I got powers too, I could help - ”

“No. We don’t know what we’re dealin’ with here,” Meredith said firmly. “That language they spoke? That don’t sound like nothin’ we’ve ever heard before.”

“What do you mean?” Mantis asked.

Meredith paused. “It means we aren’t alone.”

“Alone?” Peter repeated.

“We can’t think about that right now, okay? We need to get to safety. Your daddy will find us later, he always does,” Meredith promised, pulling them both in for a brief embrace. “Let’s go find Yondu. If he’s doing his job right, he’s already got an evacuation plan up and runnin’.”

They ran through the camp, dodging the panicked Arkadians sprinting past, screaming themselves hoarse trying to find their families and friends. Peter could also hear the heavy footfalls of unfamiliar boots, the metallic clang of weapons striking their targets, the sickening crunch of bodies collapsing to the ground. The loudest sound, however, was Mantis crying frantically beside him, her breath running ragged, clutching to him and Meredith so hard that her fingernails were digging welts into their wrists.

Then, a flash of metal appeared in the corner of Peter’s peripheral vision - bright, brilliant silver, coming straight down toward Mantis’s head - and he shouted, bringing his hands up without hesitation. A blast of white light burned from his palms, stronger than any light he’d projected before, flinging the attacker clean across the field before they could even graze his sister’s shoulder.

Heads turned his way, faces that he didn’t recognize, some humanoid and some entirely alien, all snarling and spitting and full of vitriol he didn’t know was possible. There was a single pause, then they came charging at him, chanting in the language that none of them could understand, holding their swords and guns and spears over their heads with the intent to bring them down on his head. So, Peter did the first thing that came to mind - he ran.

Meredith and Mantis screamed after him until their throats were raw, watching helplessly as the soldiers tore past them in pursuit of Peter, but he wasn’t about to stop, not if his powers would distract them, would keep them from hurting his people. He ran and ran and ran like everyone’s lives depended on it - and in a way, it did - occasionally turning to blast them again, sending them crashing to the ground. It was only when the last of them had finally fallen that Peter realized how far he had gotten and what he had done.

“Mom?” he said rather stupidly, coming to a halt. He knew she couldn’t hear him, not when he was miles away. He turned, then turned again, trying to figure out where he’d come from, but he had zig-zagged all over the fields, through the trees, remembered his feet hitting the water of a shallow stream at some point, and - _oh_ , he thought to himself, unable to find his voice again - _I’m lost_.

His belly twisted itself in knots the second he realized it, and he clutched at his rapidly beating heart, willing himself to stay calm. He had never been lost before; though the Ark was a behemoth of a ship, there were always people nearby who could help him find his way, no matter how far he wandered off in search of adventure. This was no adventure, this was a nightmare, one in which his vision was getting swallowed up in the darkness, where everything looked the same, but nothing was familiar.

Then, Peter heard a rustling in the nearby bushes. He spooked instantly, leaping backward with a soft yelp. “Don’t be a baby, Peter,” he chastised himself.

He suddenly felt something wrap around his ankles and yank him right to the ground, hitting his chin hard against the dirt. Peter shouted in pain, feeling blood pool in his mouth and nose from the impact, but he was quickly silenced by someone’s hand over his mouth and the weight of someone pinning him down. “ _Shof op, kepon_.”

Peter lifted his head, terrified it was the last thing he was ever going to see, and nearly fainted in shock (and blood loss) at what he _did_ see - a young girl, about his age, baring her teeth at him, blood streaked across her face. He could barely make out any other distinguishing features in the darkness, but he could see the ferocity in her eyes, the kind he’d never seen in someone so young. “You’re a kid,” he said breathlessly.

“ _Yu...laik goufa_.” She looked just as confused as he did, like she was only just seeing him for the first time. She eased her knee away from his stomach (he could feel the bruise already beginning to blossom across his torso) and withdrew the blade she had pressed to his throat, though she still had a tight grip on the advanced-looking device she’d used to bind his ankles. “ _Chon yu biliak_?”

He blinked. “How come my translator don’t work on...whatever it is you’re sayin’?”

She eyed him warily as she got to her feet. “ _Hakom yu kamp roun hir? Yu hir frag ai op_?”

“Look, I don’t know - I don’t - please, you gotta let me go. We just got attacked by - I dunno, prob’ly _your_ people - and I ran and I got lost, and I...I don’t know where I am or what’s goin’ on or - ” His breath rattled between his teeth. Feeling rather silly, Peter held out his hand, scraped raw, blood running down the lengths of his fingers. The girl looked at it with wide eyes, horrified to see what she’d done. “My name is Peter.”

“ _Ai laik Gamora kom Trikru_.” With a soft _shnk_ , his bindings were released, retreating back into the small device she was holding before he could blink. She knelt beside him, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes so they could properly get a look at one another. Her face was softer now, almost regretful. “My name is Gamora. You’re one of the Sky People.”

“Is that what your people are callin’ us?” Peter to struggled to sit up; it felt like every part of his body was aching from the sheer force of her attack, as if a fully-grown adult had attacked him, rather than a girl who had to be at least three inches shorter. “So you _do_ speak...something my translator knows.”

“Trigedasleng is for my enemies, my language is for my people,” she said neatly, almost like she was reciting it from something. “Other children are not my enemy.”

“So what were you gonna do if I was an adult?” Peter asked, incredulous, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Gamora’s eyes couldn’t meet his. “That isn’t for you to know.”

“You coulda killed me! I think I oughta know,” he protested.

Sighing, she sat back on her haunches and began re-pocketing all her weapons; he was alarmed at the number of pouches and loops she had on her belt. “I would take you back to my leader as my _kepon_ \- captive. But I didn’t mean to come this way. I was near the Azgeda border, on my way home, when I saw light - _your_ light. So I wanted to find you. I didn’t know you were a child.”

“So, what, your people don’t kill kids? ‘Cos it looked like they were doin’ it just fine back there,” Peter snapped. He then inwardly cowered for doing so; she seemed merciful so far, like she didn’t want to do what she was doing, but he had a feeling that one wrong word had the potential to change her mind.

“We aren’t the same. I can’t hurt you like I hurt the others.”

“Others?” he echoed.

“Never mind.” She got to her feet abruptly, turning her back to him, the last of her knives back on her belt. “Go home, _Petr kom Skaikru_. I’m letting you live.”

“Wait.” Peter reached out, clasped her wrist to hold her there. His blood smeared across her skin; she shuddered. “I don’t...I don’t know _how_ to get home. I dunno where I am or how far or...or nothin’.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “My people are looking for me.”

“Yeah? So are mine,” Peter retorted, smiling slightly when her expression faltered. “Lots of people died trying to get here. More people are dyin’ right now. I don’t want my mom and sister to think I died, too.”

“You...have a sister.” Gamora turned to fully face him, her expression unreadable. “Fine. I’ll take you back.”

He bit back the urge to draw her into a grateful hug, instead electing to let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you, um, Gamora _kom_... _kom_...I dunno what you said.”

She rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to fall into step beside her. “ _Ai laik Gamora kom Trikru_ , ‘I am Gamora of the Forest Clan’. If you and your people are going to stay, they need to learn Trig. Some factions won’t speak anything else.”

“Then teach me,” he said far too eagerly for someone who she’d tried to kill just ten minutes ago. “You said I was - ”

“ _Petr kom Skaikru_ \- ‘of the Sky People’,” she replied with a huff; she wasn’t sure if she’d ever been so annoyed with someone’s existence so quickly. “Why would I? We’re never going to see each other again.”

“I guess not,” Peter mumbled. “I mean, with your people tryna kill _my_ people and everything.”

“ _Wamplei ste komba raun_ ,” Gamora said, her voice low.

“What does that - whoa - ”

Peter nearly tripped over something, unable to see much further than a few feet in the darkness. Bile burned in his throat when he realized it was a body, a body _he’d_ put there. A man in armor, tall and lanky and long-limbed. He reminded Peter too much of Kraglin. Gamora stared down at it, unseeing, barely flinching when the man twitched, gasping for breath, his cold-gray eyes flying open.

“ _Heda_?” he asked, his voice thin. “ _Heda, beja_ …”

“Okay,” she said, swallowing. She knelt beside him and motioned for Peter to join her. He did so automatically, too numb to realize what his body was even doing, the metallic smell of blood overwhelming all of his senses. “ _Leidon...reshwe_.”

It took Peter too long to realize what was happening as she drew her blade from her belt, then drove it into the man’s chest. His eyelids fluttered closed, an eerily serene smile on his face, and he drew his last breath. Peter let out a gasp of horror, turned to dry-heave over the grass, but nothing came up. “How could you - ”

“I said we aren’t the same.” When he looked back at her, her eyes were wet as she calmly cleaned her blade with a small cloth.

“I killed that guy,” Peter breathed. “All those soldiers, I - they’re dead, and I - ”

“No. _I_ killed him,” Gamora said. Her breath shook. “He asked me to.”

“Do you just go around killin’ people ‘cos they ask?!” Peter’s voice was getting more hysterical with every word.

“Your people are that way.” She pointed in a direction he could barely follow in his haze. “I think I should go now.”

“Don’t.” Gamora hesitated, furrowing her brow at him. “I don’t know what messed-up stuff has been goin’ on here for the last hundred years, but I _do_ know I’m never gonna get back without you. Then I really _am_ gonna end up...dead.”

Wordlessly, she nodded, got to her feet, and began walking again. He followed her, fists clenched at his side. He’d seen more death than he ever wanted to in a thousand lifetimes, _created_ it, even, but he knew he had no choice. Maybe it _was_ better that they never see each other again, that she was some horrifying child assassin that he thought only existed in the books and films that his father told him he could never look at. For now, though, she was all he had.

The rest of the journey back to the Arkadian camp was in silence. Peter kept his chin high, knowing that if he looked down, he’d see more bodies, only these ones didn’t seem to have people who were going to come for them, not like Yondu and his guardsmen for the Arkadians. Gamora, on the other hand, seemed resigned, the confidence in her stride and her posture from their initial encounter entirely gone. He tried not to pay attention to the sharp inhaling noises she made every minute or so; he knew the sound of someone trying not to cry when he heard it. It gave him hope, at least, that she wasn’t entirely soulless. He supposed he should’ve already known that, given her mercy from earlier, but it was hard to erase the vivid image of her blade in the man’s chest, glinting tauntingly in the moonlight.

“We’re here,” Gamora said hollowly after fifteen minutes of uncomfortable quiet. Peter could smell smoke but saw no flames, heard the idle chatter that told him the fight was over. He heard his father’s voice, booming over all the rest. From his tone, he sounded angry but not stricken, and Peter could only hope that meant the rest of his family were alright.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice raw from disuse. He’d never gone so long without talking before. “Hey, uh, are you gonna be okay? About the...thing?”

She turned to look at him; her nose and ears were tinged pink, and it wasn’t from the cold. “He asked me to...didn’t he?”

 _I don’t know_. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, he would’ve been hurtin’ for way longer if you hadn’t...yeah, he did.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Her fingers flexed involuntarily, a motion that Peter had only seen Yondu and his other guardsmen do. He stepped closer, though he didn’t dare to reach out. Her sorrow felt contagious. “Sorry ‘bout getting all mad at you for nothin’. I guess I just...when we left for Earth, we didn’t think it was gonna be like this.”

“What did you think it was going to be?” She dragged the heel of her palm across her face in a feeble attempt to dry her eyes.

“My mom’s from here. She had all these stories about growin’ up in a place called Missouri. She went to church with her parents every Sunday at a place called St. Peter’s. That’s where she got my name,” he added.

“It sounds like it was really nice here...once,” Gamora said, a tiny smile beginning to form. “You should go to your mother now.”

“What about you?” Peter asked, stepping even closer; they were nearly toe-to-toe now. “Do you live around here?”

“You _really_ want me to teach you Trigedasleng,” she drawled, almost like she was teasing him. “Even after - ”

“I mean it, it’s okay. Or I guess, it’s not okay, but...I dunno what I’m saying, my head hurts,” he admitted with a weary laugh. He was getting increasingly delirious with every word that left his mouth. Something about this particular time of night - or day, who knew - made everything feel hazy, dreamlike, uncertain. “So...maybe I’ll see you around.”

Gamora looked at him again, _really_ looked at him this time - he was a skinny kid, the kind that Thanos recruited for thievery; he had inquisitive eyes and a curious mouth. His hair was a little long and his words were a little bit disjointed, but against her instincts, she found herself smiling a little bit wider. “Maybe.”

That seemed good enough for him, and he grinned in a charmingly lopsided way before turning to return to his people. The closer he got, the more his heart drummed in his chest, thrilled at the sound of his mother’s strong accent and his sister’s soft lilt. Peter turned to wave at Gamora, still stood atop the small slope, and called, “Thanks again, _Gamora kom Trikru_!” With a quiet laugh, her eyes damp with mirth, she waved back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Peter and Gamora meeting for the first time in pretty much all of my AUs so that last sequence was so fun to finally get to! Also, I got a comment on the prologue from the lovely star_munches about being unfamiliar with _The 100_ , so to give you some visuals, [here](https://i.stack.imgur.com/4RKPG.jpg) is an idea of what Thanos's settlement would look like (with Sanctuary, his ship from _Infinity War_ instead of the show's Ark), and [here](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/thehundred/images/f/fe/5x13_-_Madi_the_new_Heda.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20181226204108) is an approximation of how Gamora and Nebula would be dressing at this particular age.
> 
> I'm not quite sure when chapter two will be posted, as I have a lot of due dates stacked up next month, but hopefully before the end of March! Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
>  **Trigedasleng translations:**  
>  _frag emo op_ \- kill them all  
>  _shof op, kepon_ \- shut up, hostage / _yu laik goufa_ \- you're a child  
>  _chon yu biliak?_ \- who are you? / _hakom yu kamp roun hir? yu hir frag ai op?_ \- why are you here? are you here to kill me?  
>  _wamplei ste komba raun_ \- death is coming / _heda, beja_ \- Commander, please / _leidon, reshwe_ \- goodbye, rest in peace


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for injuries, blood, and bad parenting.

Gamora felt as if she looked a bit strange to anyone who happened to be nearby - hopefully, nobody - sitting under a tree, tapping one foot impatiently as she sharpened her favorite blade. Logically, she knew it would be safer to hide at the top of the tree in case she came across the wrong clan, but there was a sort of nervous energy pulsating through her that needed to be expended, different to the kind of energy she felt during a training session (or a real fight).

While she waited, her mind wandered to earlier in the morning when she was at breakfast with Nebula. It was hard to look at her sometimes, to see the pieces of her that were no longer her, the pieces that glinted in the sunlight and echoed with a metallic clang when struck. To their father, a broken leg meant a replaced one, an offhand complaint about being unable to hear something meant a complete overhaul of her sensory system. To him, a lost fight meant everything. Gamora looked down to her own arm, watched the silver twist and turn underneath her skin like new veins. They still burned sometimes.

“Gamora?”

She quickly drew her arm behind her back and looked up to see Peter standing there, a boyish grin on his face. He was dressed differently than when she saw him three weeks ago, his hair longer and curling slightly over his shining eyes. The most notable thing, however, was the glow of his hands, and in his cupped palms was a crudely-made rubber ball. “ _Hapotei_.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“Happy birthday,” she sighed; she could’ve sworn she’d taught him that last time after they agreed to meet on his eleventh birthday. They’d been meeting in secret for six months now, starting off as her simply teaching him some basics of the language and the planet, then quickly developing into tentative, but hopeful friendship. She also conveniently left out the fact that she was a daughter of Thanos. In all fairness, he spoke fondly of his mother and sister but didn’t speak of his father, either, and they left it at that. She knew it was risky for both of them to be spending time together, but she found herself genuinely enjoying his company, found that she felt just a little bit less like their great and terrible world was waiting for her to lead the way. He was the only person in her life who didn’t know her predetermined fate.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she got to her feet and went to join him, stashing her blade as she did. “I think it’s weird that your people remember what day they were born.”

“I think it sucks that your people don’t,” he shot back, though not unkindly. “But c’mon, isn’t this cool? Made it myself!” He held out his hands, proud. She poked the ball gingerly, leaving a permanent fingerprint on its surface. “Okay, so it’s not the best thing ever - ”

“It’s...better,” she said slowly, thinking back to the time he’d presented her with what looked like an approximation of a deflated balloon. She had asked him about the light the second time they met since she never got the chance during their first encounter, and ever since then, he’d been far too eager to bring deformed creations along with him. “You’re getting better.” Her eyes flickered upwards to his shoulders, taking in the shiny red leather. “Your jacket...it smells new.”

“You can _smell_ \- yeah, okay,” Peter chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a birthday present from Yondu. Oh, and my mom gave me this!” He unhooked something from the belt loop of his jeans and held it out to her, some rectangular device that looked positively ancient compared to all the technology they both had access to. She carefully took it, turning it over in her hands as if it would magically explain itself. “It’s called a Walkman. Plays music.”

“My people don’t have music,” Gamora said. Peter looked scandalized. “What do you do with it?”

“Do? Nothin’. You listen to it. Or you can dance.” He shrugged.

“My people don’t dance,” she retorted, sullen.

“No birthdays, no dancin’...your people _really_ don’t know how to have fun,” Peter grinned. “You gotta dance with me sometime.”

Gamora looked at him dubiously. “...no.”

He only laughed, bright and notably cheerful, even for him, and ambled on down the slope toward the stream, gesturing for her to follow. She huffed impatiently - honestly, she gave him _one_ orienteering lesson and suddenly he was acting like _he_ was the expert - but followed him regardless.

The weather was idyllic, far nicer than it had any right to be. Last night had been another night of war, the kind that raged on until sunrise, when blood seemed brighter and bolder and ridden with guilt. Thanos and Ego had been attacking each other from afar, still having never met in person, and every day it seemed like there was at least another name or two or ten that both sides were left to mourn. Gamora had grown numb to it; Peter had not, holding his breath every time his father had another announcement to make. It was something they never talked about.

“I don’t wanna learn nothin’ new today. Let’s just...sit.” Peter plopped down unceremoniously beside the stream, his legs sprawled out across the pebbles, not caring for the way the water trickled between them, dampening the underside of his jeans.

“If it’s your birthday, how did you get away from your family? Don’t they want to spend time with you?” Gamora asked, sitting neatly beside him. She drew her knees into her chest, away from the water.

“Parents are working, sister’s with her friends. They didn’t even see me leave,” he said, shrugging. “Mom said she’s gonna make me a cake later.”

“Your mother sounds so perfect whenever you talk about her,” she said wistfully. Peter perked up.

“You wanna meet her?”

Gamora was startled by the question. It had never crossed her mind that she and Peter could exist outside of the space they’d created for themselves. She knew she certainly didn’t want Peter to get anywhere near her world, still remembering the awful way he’d looked at her when she mercy-killed one of her soldiers on the night they met. She didn’t want him to look at her like that ever again.

“Maybe,” she hummed, hoping she sounded more nonchalant than she felt. The idea of a parent who loved their children was not something she’d ever entertained. There were plenty of loving families within Sanctuary’s walls, sure, but it was mostly parents adoring the children who were strong enough to become warriors, and disregarding those who weren’t. Her mind went to Drax again, how he used to sit by himself at meals until Gamora (and a reluctant Nebula) decided to join him. Losing his parents so young had done him no favors in so many unfortunate and unforeseeable ways.

“Then come back with me.” Gamora had been so lost in her own thoughts, she nearly forgot what Peter was talking about. “You can have cake and meet my family! Or I guess, my mom and my sister.”

“Not your father?” she asked.

“Everyone says he’s not a ‘family man’,” he said dismissively. “Y’know, whatever that means.”

“I don’t,” she said, frowning. “Does he work a lot? You make him sound like a very important person.”

“He’s...uh...yeah, you could say that,” Peter hedged, refusing to meet her eyes. Gamora’s frown deepened.

“Is he part of your army?” she persisted. “Like a general? A captain?”

“Like...he’s kind of…” He scratched at a non-existent itch on the back of his hand, his gaze now fully cast downward into his own lap. “...the Chancellor.”

Gamora shot to her feet, her mind racing with possibilities, her heart beating with betrayal. Already, she could feel tears burning hot in her eyes, taunting her for letting trust overtake instinct. “Your _father_ is the one killing my people?!”

“ _Your_ people started it,” Peter mumbled petulantly, cowering, though he knew it was only going to make things worse. “My mom and all them others, they just wanted their planet back. I don’t see why we gotta die for it.”

“I can’t - ” Gamora exhaled, resting one hand on her stomach, fingers splayed outward, willing herself to calm down. “There are orphans, Peter. Children who don’t have parents because your father wanted it that way.”

“You think we don’t got that, too?” His voice was rapidly rising; fists balled up in his lap. He didn’t want to give Gamora the satisfaction of knowing she’d angered him; Meredith had told him too many times before that he needed to be better with his temperament. “Everyone...everyone’s got dead people. ‘Cos of my dad, and...what’s his name again?”

“Thanos.” Gamora swallowed. “ _My_ father.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to have his blood run cold, to have his mouth fall open in a rather comical manner, though neither of them were laughing. “You gotta be kiddin’.” When she shook her head, he also got to his feet, shaking off the damp bits of grass that had stuck to his clothes. “Some birthday I’m having.” With that, he turned and ran off, ignoring Gamora calling after him, a voice he’d been so thrilled to hear when he first arrived, a voice that now made him feel vaguely ill.

“Peter, please!” Gamora shouted, even after he was long gone, and she groaned in frustration, collapsing back down onto the ground, not caring when her boots struck the water and splashed the hems of her pants. It amazed her how terrible everything had become so quickly, how awfully serendipitous it was that the one _Skaikru_ she’d befriended was her equivalent in the worst possible way. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them back into her chest.

 _Inhale, exhale_ , she told herself, trying to think of all the breathing exercises she’d been taught, the rules that had been drilled in her head. She could almost hear Thanos’s voice, paradoxically dull and menacing at the same time: “Your anger doesn’t feed you, daughter, it _starves_ you. What you need is focus. You are a _plangona_ , the future _heda_. Do not waste your breath on those who don’t deserve it.” Her eyes slid closed, her breath evening out, gentle. _In. Out. In. Out._

In her peace, Gamora never saw the unfamiliar hands that reached out for her.

* * *

Peter returned to New Arkardia not too long after he left, his face and fists still burning with anger. He was instantly waved through the gates upon his arrival, weaving through the crowd of people who either reached out to greet him with far too much enthusiasm or looked at him with far too much derision.

He reached his house a few minutes later, a happy medium between his father’s lust for luxury and his mother’s desire for normalcy, built a mere two days after they landed on Earth. Peter had to admit, as much as he despised Ego’s over-the-top approach to just about everything, the New Arkadia settlement was something to be proud of. It was a small, self-contained town, with dirt roads winding and snaking along between the trees, houses and community buildings nestled along the way, running alongside the river. They had a steady stream of food and supplies, all the adults had settled back into the jobs they had on the original Ark, and the children had mostly adjusted to their newfound freedom, the ability to take in fresh air after a long day in the classroom. However, no one strayed too far from their territory, knowing that the other factions were still hunting them, waiting to chase them right off the earth.

“Peter, is that you?” Meredith called from the living room when he opened the front door. “Where’ve you been runnin’ off to, baby?”

“Followin’ Yondu around,” he lied easily, kicking off his shoes. He went to join her, still awed at the fact they had more than one couch, bookshelves that went all the way to the ceiling, thick pile rugs and quilted blankets and a crackling fireplace. It was a bit like the bigger apartment they’d had when he and Mantis were younger before Ego shuffled them off to their smaller place in favor of investing in their return to Earth, full of quiet luxuries he didn’t realize he’d missed so much.

“That’s odd, because I just left my graveyard shift at the medical center and Yondu was there, checkin’ up on that guard of his who got speared last night.” Meredith clicked her tongue to punctuate her point, though her eyes never left the book she was reading. “Don’t lie to me, Peter. You’ve been sneaking out on us, and as your mother, I have the right to know who, where, and why.”

Peter hesitated. “I made a friend.”

“What’s their name?” she pressed, flipping the page.

“Don’t matter,” he grouched. “We got into a fight. That’s why I came back.”

Meredith finally set her book aside, sweeping Peter up in her arms. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sure things’ll smooth over eventually. They _must_ be special if you wanted to spend your birthday with them. How far were you?”

“Outside the gates,” he mumbled into her shoulder. She instantly released him.

“ _Peter_ ,” she exclaimed, the growl in her voice causing him to recoil. “Do you think your daddy made all them rules just because he can? Do you think I’m stitchin’ up wounds, day and night, because our guards just got a little clumsy?”

“I’m sorry, Mom.” He sank further into the couch cushions, ashamed. “I just...wanted to get closer to the river. The forest gets kinda boring after a while.”

“You only go outside the gates if you’ve got Yondu with you, you hear me?” She cupped his chin, tilting his head upward so his eyes could meet hers. “You promise me that.”

Peter muttered another apology, then curled into her side again, soothed by her warmth and her perfume. He didn’t want to think about how things had gone so wrong an hour ago, all the things he thought he understood about Gamora and their newfound friendship now soured by their respective truths. Of course, a part of him still wanted to see her again, but he had a feeling it wasn’t meant to be.

* * *

Gamora woke to a dull throbbing in her temples and an ache in her side. She pushed herself up into a seated position, taking stock of her surroundings, and her heart lurched in the realization that she was somewhere entirely unfamiliar. At most, she could tell she was in an underground cellar, with old-fashioned metal bars and sturdy stone walls, none of the advanced technology that Thanos used for the prisons on Sanctuary. An opposing faction, then. _Can’t be Azgeda_ , she thought dizzily, prodding herself for broken bones, sprained joints and pulled muscles. _They don’t take people alive_.

It wasn’t long before two soldiers came thundering down the steps, leering at her from the cellar door. “ _Heda_ ,” one of them said mockingly, threading his spear between the bars so he could prod her in the shoulder. He pressed deeply enough to draw just the tiniest bit of blood. “Did you sleep well?”

“Let me _go_ \- ” She banged her fists against the bars with a snarl. “I command you, _shilkru_. Let. Me. Go.”

“You are in no position to make demands. _You_ are not our leader, _wanheda_ is,” the other said; his voice was colder, more monotonous. “What business does he have, choosing a child as his successor?”

“Why do you care? You don’t follow him anyway,” Gamora retorted.

“It matters when we all _live_ here, _heda_. It matters when your decisions could wipe out this planet, _again_. What is it about you that makes you so special?”

She faltered. Thanos always told her she was stronger, cleverer, fiercer than the others, but she didn’t feel that way. His army had children who were far more ruthless, and she could only imagine what the younglings of the rival factions were like. For people who had arrived here with some of the most sophisticated technology and weaponry in the entire galaxy, they’d all resorted to savagery far too quickly. “Let me go,” she repeated, gritting her teeth. “You won’t get what you want like this.”

“There must be _something_ about you that _wanheda_ prefers over his adult ‘children’,” the first one continued, tapping the spear against the bars, enjoying the way Gamora shivered with every rattle it made. “And if it means we should hold you here until he listens to our demands, so be it.”

“What could you want that you don’t have?” she asked. “I thought _Boudalankru_ took most of our supplies during the first Conclave.”

The soldiers exchanged glances. “How did you know - ”

“You wear stones around your neck and waists, your cellars are made of stone,” she pointed out. “Who else would you be?” She felt an odd sense of satisfaction at their defeated expressions, though there was no time for celebration. “ _Wanheda_ will not come for me. He will not listen to you. So kill me, or let me go.”

The stone-faced one stepped even closer, pressing his face against the bars. She could smell his breath; he was close enough to see the sweat forming on her brow. “What did you say?”

“I said…” Gamora’s voice cracked as she reached out, trembling, to grip the head of his spear and pull it right underneath her chin, its tip pressing into the underside of her jaw. “...kill me, or let me go.”

The other soldier put his hand on his companion’s shoulder, tugging him back in warning. “ _Koken hainofi...tsa bants_.”

“ _Heda, nou hainofi_.” She shoved the spear back through the bars and into the soldier’s chest. Though her breath was still coming in short, her palms bloody and her knees buckling beneath her, she couldn’t help but smile as the two of them sprinted up the steps, a large wooden door hastily slamming shut behind them. “ _Bushhadas_ ,” she muttered. She then turned to look at the cellar, how bare it was, how there was nothing she could to do to free herself. _Well_ , she thought, rolling her jacket sleeves up, _not yet_.

* * *

Two days came and went, and Peter was still restless over what had happened on his birthday. The rest of the night had actually been kind of nice - they had an intimate family dinner at their house, with Yondu and Kraglin dropping by for cake. Even his father had been less moody than usual, though it was mostly because he’d been boasting about his recent “victory” over the Grounders, as the Arkadians had taken to calling them. Afterward, though, Peter moped around in his room, unable to concentrate on his studies or even his usual bouts of self-appointed mischief.

Then, on a miraculously quiet evening in which there were no deaths, no injuries, no war chants or cries to be heard, Peter and Mantis were doing their homework in the living room when she suddenly sat up. Her antennae glowered, casting an eerie light across her face. “Someone is at the gates.”

Ego, who was sitting opposite them, poring over his blueprints for a recreation center, shot to his feet. “Grounder?”

“I think...it is a Grounder _child_ ,” Mantis mused. Peter froze.

“Meredith!” Ego called while he pulled on his coat, not bothering to wait for her answer. “There’s an intruder at the gates, watch the children!”

“Dad, wait - ”

“No, Peter, you stay here. Be safe,” Ego insisted, sharply patting them both on the cheeks before sweeping out the front door. Meredith emerged from her private study and came down the stairs moments later.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“There is a Grounder child at the gates,” Mantis repeated. “They are by themselves.”

“Oh, poor darling. Must’ve gotten lost,” Meredith murmured, resting a hand over her heart. “I’m sure your daddy’s gonna help ‘em get right back home - ”

“He didn’t say that,” Peter interrupted. “He said ‘intruder’, not ‘kid’.”

“Peter, you know that don’t mean anything,” Meredith scolded lightly, gesturing for them both to settle back down. “Finish your homework now, you’ve got that big presentation tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, they followed suit, sinking back into the couch and picking up their books again. Meredith briefly went upstairs to grab her stack of patient records and bring them back down with her so she could stay close by, though her eyes flickered to the door every few minutes, tapping her foot against the back of her opposite ankle in restlessness.

Not ten minutes went by before the door burst open and Ego stumbled in, practically tripping over his own feet, breathless. “I need all of you to come with me. _Now_.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the gates, Peter’s mind and heart racing the entire time. Mantis reached for him and squeezed his hand. At first, he thought it was for herself, that maybe she was worried or scared, until he felt the tension in his body slowly ease its way out. Her breath hitched briefly, followed by a shaky exhale. He turned to smile at her in silent gratitude.

The four of them made their way to the top of the watchtower, joining the two guards who were eyeing something apprehensively on the other side of the gate. Peter had to squint to make sense of what he was seeing, the darkness of the forest swallowing up everything from sight. Then, a silhouette of a child came into focus, short and lanky, but clearly trying to stand tall, to look bigger than they really were. His heart sank when he realized this particular child had no hair.

“She’s been talkin’ that nonsense Grounder talk since she got here,” Ego muttered, his eyes full of hunger. “At first, I thought she was just a distraction for the guards, but then I heard a single word, just _one word_ that I recognized.”

“ _Ai ste lufa Petr kom Skaikru au_ ,” she called. Her voice was monotonous, dull. “ _Ai laik Nebula kom Trikru, strisis kom Gamora_.”

“Peter? Any idea what she’s saying?” Ego asked urgently.

He hesitated. Mantis, noticing the tremble in his mouth, stood on her toes to peer over the railing, straining her neck to get a better look. “She is desperate.” Meredith made a soft noise of sympathy, reaching to gently pull Mantis back in before she could fall.

“ _Ai laik Petr kom Skaikru. Weron laik Gamora_?” All three of them turned to look at Peter, astonished. Before they could ask the dozens of questions on their mind, Yondu came thundering up the steps, stopping to briefly growl at the guard who stood post at the bottom of the tower and dared remind him of the watchtower’s weight capacity, and shoved his way to Peter’s side.

“You know this kid?” Yondu demanded, gripping Peter’s arm. “You been talkin’ to Grounders?”

“You!” Everyone jumped at Nebula’s sudden language switch, turning back to look at her in time to see her scoff derisively at Peter in a way that made him shrink into himself. “ _You_ are my sister’s friend?”

“Not really,” he said, hating the way his voice shook, hating the way everyone’s eyes were fixated on him - not just his family’s, not just Yondu’s, but _all_ the Arkadians who had gathered near the gates, watching the spectacle of the Chancellor’s child, of all people, speaking the Grounder language. “She’s not talkin’ to me no more.”

“She is missing.” Peter’s blood ran cold. “She never came home after she left camp to see you.”

“Did she...did she tell you about me?”

Nebula smirked; it was the first expression she’d made that wasn’t entirely neutral. Somehow, it was even more unsettling. The fact she was quite casually staring down the guards who stood directly opposite her, pointing guns at her head, didn’t help matters, either. “She keeps a box under her bed with these odd... _things_ in it. When she didn’t come home, I went looking for clues in her room and found it, with the word _‘Petr_ ’ written on the lid. There is no _Petr_ in _Trikru_.” Peter’s face reddened, both out of embarrassment and delight.

“Peter, what is going on here?” Ego said lowly, reaching around Meredith to grab Peter. Before he could, Yondu stepped sideways to block him, holding up his hands defensively. “Captain, step _away_ from my son.”

“You let your boy be, Chancellor, clearly they got a lot to talk about,” Yondu countered, half-bowing his head out of respect, though it only seemed to infuriate Ego further. “And boys, can you stop pointin’ your weapons at the kid already? You’re makin’ me nervous!” The guards slowly lowered their guns, exchanging shameful looks amongst themselves. Nebula seemed unbothered either way.

“We were yelling at each other a bunch, and then I guess I just...left her there,” Peter said, turning back to Nebula, his heart sinking. “Do you think that maybe...someone took her? Like one of the other clans?”

Her chin tilted downward, casting her gaze to her feet. “Maybe,” she repeated, her voice hollow. Then, shaking herself, she turned to leave.

“Wait,” Peter called. She paused mid-step. “I can show you where we were, maybe it’ll help you find her.”

“No, you are _not_ to leave Arkadia,” Ego interrupted firmly, finally managing to step around Yondu and make a literal attempt to shake some sense into Peter, his fingers digging welts his shoulders. “Can’t you see, Peter? This is a trap! Their men are waiting for you on the other side of the ridge.”

“But Dad, if somethin’ happened to her, it’s all my fault,” Peter protested. “I shoulda stayed - ”

“And whoever took that girl would’ve taken you, too. You think they’re looking to make the distinction?” Ego growled. “No, you’re coming straight home with us. Let Yondu’s guards take care of the little actress down there.”

“Ego,” Meredith warned. “Don’t you go after that girl. She’s just lookin’ for her sister, she’s not here to play tricks.”

“This is the first day in _months_ that we’ve had no attacks, and suddenly _she_ shows up, you think that’s a coincidence?” Ego snapped, gesturing wildly in Nebula’s direction. Still, she remained unmoved, arms folded across her chest and tapping her foot like they were mildly inconveniencing her. “You take the kids home, Meredith. _Right_ now.”

“If I may, Chancellor, I think your missus has a point,” Yondu said, clearing his throat. “Now, you know me, I can smell a rat a mile away, and I don’t smell nothing right now. Let me take your boy to help ‘er, and he’ll be safe with me.”

Peter turned to Meredith with wide eyes. “You said I could only go outside the gates when I’m with Yondu, remember?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, bending down to meet him at eye level, running her fingers through his hair, stopping to cup his chin. “I did, didn’t I? What kind of mother would I be if I went back on my word, hmm?”

“Still the best kind,” Peter said simply, smiling. Meredith laughed, kissing his cheek before straightening up. She then turned to Yondu, her expression hardening somewhat.

“You don’t go any farther than where he was with his friend. After that, you let her people, her sister, find her. You come straight home, you hear me?” Meredith ordered. Peter nodded eagerly while Ego let out a resounding protest that fell on deaf ears. “Now you two go and help bring her home.”

* * *

Peter could still hear his parents whisper-shouting urgently at each other as he and Yondu passed through the gates, could still picture Mantis’s tiny but brave face as she stood between them, wondering silently if taking their emotions would do her more harm than good. He reached out to grab Yondu’s arm, knowing he’d be embarrassed if he attempted to grab his hand. “Thanks, Yondu,” he said, grinning up at him. “It’s real nice of you to stick up for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just don’t want no dead kids on my conscience,” Yondu grumbled. “Let’s go talk to her before she gets any ideas. I don’t like the funny way she’s looking at my boys.”

When they reached Nebula, Peter immediately noticed that, like Gamora, she was shorter than her demeanor made her seem. Even so, she was even more intimidating than her sister with her inky eyes, hardset mouth, and bits of metal seemingly dispersed all throughout her body - pieces in her skull, her neck, what he could see of her hands through her fingerless gloves. Peter had seen the occasional new glints of silver in Gamora’s face every now and then, but he was never sure if it was okay to ask. Looking at Nebula, he was certain it wouldn’t have been.

“You got some nerve comin’ all the way out here by yourself,” Yondu commented brazenly by way of greeting, his eyes flickering briefly behind her to check for any signs of movement in the forest beyond. “Your parents know you’re here?”

“We have a man who thinks he is our father,” Nebula said; that seemed to shut Yondu right up. “If you’re lying, _Petr kom Skaikru_ , I will kill you.”

Peter swallowed. “Cool.”

It was a brief fifteen-minute walk to the tree where Peter and Gamora liked to meet, far from the battles and the bases, away from prying eyes. He thought about how he approached her just two days ago, excited to see her and talk to her and ask her all sorts of questions about what her life was like. He thought about how Ego was probably right - whoever took Gamora would have taken him, too. He shuddered.

“Tracks.” Nebula walked slowly beside the tread marks along the riverbank, taking a few steps back and then forward again, trying to judge the direction they’d come from and where they’d gone. “No extra footprints, no animal prints.”

“So maybe she just got lost?” Peter suggested, feeling rather silly. Nebula lifted her head to glare at him.

“ _No_ ,” she said coolly. “Stealth ships don’t make any sound and only leave one set of tracks. There is only one clan who stole them from Father - _Boudalankru_.”

“Bow-dah-what?” Yondu repeated dubiously.

“You’ve been useful, _Petr_ ,” Nebula said, sounding about as surprised as Peter felt. “Now leave.”

“Wait, are you really gonna look for Gamora all by yourself?” Peter asked. “That don’t sound safe.”

“Nothing is,” Nebula said blithely. “Most of _wanheda’s_ army was sent to look for her in _Azgeda_ and _Sangedakru_. It will be too late by the time they get to _Boudalankru_. It has to be me.”

“I wanna help,” Peter volunteered. Nebula looked at him incredulously, though before she could say anything, Yondu grabbed him by the wrist and unceremoniously yanked him aside.

“Hey, I promised your mama I’d take you straight home,” Yondu reminded him. “I know you feel bad ‘bout your little friend, but there ain’t nothing we can do. We don’t know nothing about this boh-dal - ”

“ _Boudalankru_ ,” Peter repeated, remembering the time Gamora had tried and failed (on his part, that is) to teach him all the clan names. It seemed so long ago. “There’s gotta be _something_ I can do, Yondu. Please?”

“No,” Yondu said firmly. “We’re goin’ home and you’re goin’ straight to bed, or your mama’s gonna skin me alive.”

* * *

Gamora’s palms were scraped raw, her fingernails broken, her skin cracked. She’d torn a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt, then ripped it in two and wrapped it around her hands to suppress the bleeding. Her throat burned from the lack of water, her stomach ached from the lack of food. It had been at least a day since she was taken, and the guards had refused to relieve her of any of her discomforts for her insolence. Now, she was sat cross-legged on the floor of the dirty, damp cellar, contemplating her next move.

 _Think, Gamora, think_ , she muttered inaudibly, running her hands over the length of her body for the thousandth time, checking to see if they’d somehow left something sharp on her person, and somehow she hadn’t noticed until now. Then her thumb snagged on the zipper of her jacket, and _oh_ , she thought, _there it is_. With a quick jostle and a sharp yank, she broke the zipper head clean off its teeth.

She crawled toward the cellar door, then flattened herself against the ground so she was eye level with its bottom hinges, silently assessing the size of its screws. Grimacing, she got back to her feet and began pacing the length of her tiny confinement, running her fingers along its stone walls. She startled a little when she felt a sharp pinprick on the pad of her finger, enough to draw blood. Gamora stepped closer to examine the spot in question, how invisible it was, even to her enhanced eyes, then lifted the tiny zipper head to its surface. Slowly, but surely, she began to file away at its edges.

Long, arduous minutes went by as her shaking fingers moved back and forth, sometimes catching her skin instead of the metal, sometimes slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor. Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, she knelt back down and slotted the sharpened metal into the slot of the screw, turning it ever so slightly. She stretched upwards to reach the top hinges, too, straining with every last bit of strength she had. She stepped back, taking a moment to let her breathing slow to something that wasn’t threatening to swallow her up. _You will not die in here_.

Gamora stepped forward and rattled the bars. “ _Chek ai au, bushhadas_!” she hollered. “ _Ai laik yu heda_!”

It took less than a minute for the guards to return. “You’re a noisy little thing, aren’t you?”

She merely glared at them. “I’m hungry,” she said, her tone that of an impatient child.

The soldiers exchanged glances, then laughed. “We already told you, you are in no place to make demands, _heda_ ,” one of them sneered. He pushed his spear between the bars like he’d done earlier, its end hovering mere inches from her nose. “Why don’t you tell your father we have demands to make of him?”

“He is not my father,” she growled. With that, she gripped the head of the spear and yanked it towards her, jolting it right out of the soldier’s hands so it hit the cellar bars with a loud _clang_. Using her momentum, she then shoved forward, both her hands braced on either end of the spear, and the door collapsed onto both guards, the hinges shrieking precariously as it fell. They both cried out in shock, their hands scrabbling desperately to get a grip on her _somewhere_ \- her hair, her wrists, anything they could use for leverage - but she had them pinned down, the door weighing heavy on their bodies. “If you have demands, you tell them to me.”

The only noise that escaped either of them was an awful, guttural choking sound, sputtering and spitting as the metal bars and the spear laid perfectly across their necks. Gamora got to her feet, pausing to stare at them, swallowing down the acid burning in her throat. _They will live_ , she thought urgently, her heart racing. _You didn’t kill them. Not this time_.

She sprinted up the stairs, finding herself in a small entryway that seemed to branch off into a whole series of stairways that led to other cells. There, she found her utility belt and weapons tossed aside, and she quickly gathered them up and slipped them back on her person, staying alert to the sights and sounds nearby. When she was ready, she took a deep breath, then pushed her way out of the prison entirely. She was greeted by the blindingly bright sun and the sound of a dozen soldiers’ war cries descending upon her.

* * *

“Can’t believe you talked to me into this nonsense,” Yondu grumbled. He, Peter, and Nebula were hidden just outside the vicinity of the guardsmen quarters, where the vehicles were stored. While the Grounders used all manner of technology, as old-fashioned as horses and as high-brow as cloaked ships, the Arkadians kept close to their base, and therefore never needed much more than a few ships and a fleet of armored cars, courtesy of Ego’s limitless powers. “If we don’t die out there, we gonna be dead when we get back. Your daddy’s gonna spear me like an Orloni, then he’s gonna whoop _your_ ass into shape ‘til you’re _his_ age.”

“Do you people ever shut up?” Nebula hissed before Peter could protest. “Why are we hiding from _your_ men?”

“Some of _my_ men are more loyal to the Chancellor than their captain,” Yondu said begrudgingly. “Now get in there ‘fore they see us.”

Their initial take-off was a bit of a tumble since Yondu hadn’t flown since they arrived on Earth - it certainly didn’t help that Peter was trying to push all the buttons on the console in a futile attempt to make himself useful - but then they were airborne, heartbeats pounding rapidly in their ears as they watched the ground get further and further away. Nebula shoved Peter out of the co-pilot’s seat to assist Yondu, grumbling under her breath about his poor steering. Peter then situated himself in the passenger’s seat directly behind her, peering over her shoulder.

“You know how to fly a ship?” he asked, awed.

“Yes,” she replied shortly, though she almost sounded proud of herself.

“Does Gamora?”

Nebula huffed. “How did a _goufa_ like you become friends with my sister?”

“By being awesome,” Peter grinned, leaning back into his chair.

Now it was Yondu’s turn to snort. “Alright, buckle up, kids, I ain’t responsible for you two flyin’ out the window if you don’t.”

Meanwhile, back in New Arkadia, Mantis was curled up by the large bay window at the front of their living room, her face and hands pressed against the glass. She watched as the telltale lights of the underside of Yondu’s ship soar up into the night sky, then peel off into the darkness. “Baby, I thought I told you to go to bed.”

She let out a startled squeak, turning to see Meredith standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. “Sorry, Mama,” she mumbled. “It is just...Peter is not back yet.”

“Your daddy already sent some guards to go looking for ‘em. Nothing we can do not but wait and hope for the best,” Meredith said soothingly, moving to sit beside Mantis by the window. She reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling when Mantis nuzzled affectionately against her hand. “You want me to tuck you in tonight, maybe read you a book and take your mind off things?”

“I do not think I can sleep,” Mantis admitted. “My stomach hurts.”

“I know you’re worried,” Meredith nodded, clicking her tongue sympathetically. “I won’t pretend I’m not worried, too. I know you can see right through me. But we have to take comfort in the fact that Peter isn’t alone. This isn’t like that night, okay? This isn’t like when he ran off trying to protect us.”

Mantis shuddered in memory of that fateful night, the night where the Grounders made themselves known to the Arkadians, storming their camp and chanting their war chants, crying their war cries. The night where Peter was there one moment and gone the next, leaving nothing but a trail of light behind him. He had returned with a sort of haggard look in his eyes that no one ever expected to see on a child. He’d collapsed into Meredith’s arms, mumbling about how tired he was, reached out for Mantis’s hand so he could squeeze, so he could know she was still there for him to look for. In that moment, Mantis felt everything he felt - shock, guilt, disgust, and oddly enough, the tiniest glimpse of hope. Now, she wondered if that was the night he met Gamora, if she was the one who helped him feel just a little bit less like that night was the worst night of everyone’s lives.

“Mantis?” She shook herself out of her thoughts to see Meredith staring at her, brow furrowed in concern. “I asked if you wanted some tea for your stomach. I don’t want you on any medication of any sort unless you really need it.”

“Yes, please.” Mantis turned back to the window while Meredith went into the kitchen, silently pleading for the lights to come back, to bring her brother back so she would know he was safe. She closed her eyes, antennae glowing faintly, trying to see if she could detect Peter above all the noise of the thoughts and heartbeats of their people.

“Mantis?”

She turned again, only to find herself looking up into Ego’s face. “Mama is making me tea before I sleep,” she said before he could ask. “My stomach hurts.”

“Worried about Peter, huh?” Ego sat in Meredith’s place, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well, you heard me back there. I made it very clear to your mother that letting him go off wasn’t a good idea, but unfortunately, she’s about as stubborn as I am. We _all_ are. So let’s just hope Yondu makes good on his word because I’m certainly going to have a few for him if they come back.”

“If?” Mantis repeated.

Ego’s face softened. “I meant ‘when’,” he said quietly.

“And what about everything else that is out there? Those bad men who took that girl’s sister?” she asked.

“That’s what I'm trying to protect you from. _All_ of you,” he insisted. “Because they aren’t men. They’re _animals_ , trying to keep people like your mother from getting their planet back, from taking back what’s theirs. And I’ll be honest, I don’t like that Peter decided to be friends with one of them. Not one bit.”

“But she is a child, like him and me,” Mantis said defensively. “She needs friends, too. Maybe she does not have any.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Ego said, chuckling derisively. “They may inhabit a planet of humans, but there is no humanity left in them.” He got to his feet as if to leave, only to stop when he saw Meredith approach them both, holding two steeping hot mugs of tea. “Meredith.”

“Ego,” she replied. “I thought you went to bed.”

“It’s hard to, when our son is out there, possibly dying or dead. I’ll be surprised if _any_ of us get any sleep tonight.” His voice was low, dark; he didn’t wait to hear Meredith’s response, turning and sweeping up the stairs to their shared bedroom without a backwards glance. She stared after him for a moment, then carefully rearranged her expression into something that resembled a smile and rejoined Mantis by the window.

“Sorry, baby,” she murmured after they’d taken their first few sips. “I keep tellin’ myself not to fight with your daddy in front of you, but we both got tempers we ain’t proud of.”

“I am used to it,” Mantis shrugged.

Meredith shook her head adamantly. “No, Mantis, don’t get used to it. It’s not healthy, for us or for you and Peter.”

“I am trying to listen for him, but it is so hard.” Mantis pressed her palm against the glass once more. “I can only hear our people. They think about him.”

“Don’t let those powers of yours take over your life, baby,” Meredith urged, reaching to gently pry Mantis away from the window and pull her against her chest, Mantis’s head resting over Meredith’s heart. “What you need is to drink your tea, go to bed, and when you wake up, Peter will be home. I swear it.”

“Can you stay with me?”

Meredith’s heart simultaneously broke and swelled at the same time, pulsating so sharply she was sure Mantis heard it. “Of course, baby. Always.”

* * *

It was pitch-black by the time they reached _Boudalankru_ territory, but Peter was still wide awake, perhaps a little _too_ wide awake. He’d spent the last half hour of their trip trying to formulate a plan for how to find and rescue Gamora, and was promptly shut down by Nebula every single time.

“Leave it to me, _Petr kom Skaikru_ ,” she insisted, twirling one of the many blades she had on her utility belt, something that reminded him too much of Gamora. “Stay here and don’t get in my way.”

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Yondu commented as he brought the ship down to land.

Peter followed Yondu and Nebula off the ship despite their protests, looking around in awe at their surroundings. _Boudalankru_ was more modern than its name implied; Yondu and Peter had expected old-fashioned stone huts and gravel paths, but instead were met with a micro-city juxtaposed against the impossibly tall trees that masked the horizon. Modern buildings made of limestone and glass were lined up in a too-straight line along the paved concrete roads, small passenger ships were parked neatly beside them. Metal signs were embedded with what looked like Kree language, and seemingly brand-new lampposts flickered overhead as they continued walking down the barren streets. The most jarring thing of all was just that - there was not a single person to be found.

“Are we in a horror movie or somethin’?” Peter whispered uneasily. “I don’t hear or see nobody.”

Yondu let out a low whistle, prompting his yaka arrow to shoot out of its pouch and hover by his temples. He gestured for both of them to get behind him, but Nebula ignored him in favor of walking up to the nearest building and pressing her face against the glass, peering inside for any sort of indication that they hadn’t just stumbled across a ghost town. Peter hesitated, then ducked into Yondu’s side, though he kept one hand extended, letting it glow faintly to lead the way while they continued on, the street lights getting dimmer the further they went.

The minutes dragged on forever, Peter’s heart beating so rapidly he thought it would collapse, until they finally heard something - suddenly a _lot_ of something, the sounds of victorious shouts in alarming numbers. Yondu sprinted in the direction of the noise, the children following closely at his heel, and found themselves in proximity to what appeared to be an outdoor in-ground arena, the kind with endless rows of seats and blinding floodlights, filled to the brim with every last member of _Boudalankru_. The three of them quickly made their way to the edge, pushing their way to the front of the crowd, and looked down, astonished at what they saw.

In the middle of the whole spectacle was Gamora, blood streaked across her face, her torso, her _everywhere_ (Peter was starting to become more accustomed to seeing her with blood than without, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing), thrusting her short blade above her head in the clear universal sign of victory. Lying at her feet was a boy who looked no more than sixteen, panting and heaving and wounded by more than just his pride. Around them, the crowd stomped their feet, clapped their hands, chanted: _he-da, he-da, he-da_ …

“ _Yo laik ai kru_ ,” Gamora shouted, her voice amplified by the device that was wrapped tight around her neck. “ _Ai laik yu heda_!” Everyone roared back with vigor. Nebula recoiled.

“What the…” Peter turned to look at Nebula, speechless. “What’s goin’ on?”

“She called for a Conclave,” Nebula murmured. “And she won. As she always does.”

“She don’t _look_ like she needs our help,” Yondu said, sounding half-impressed, half-terrified. “But alrigh’, let’s go get ‘er.”

They continued to shove their way through the throng of people, though Peter and Nebula soon found themselves constantly getting knocked aside due to their obvious height disadvantage, clinging onto the tails of Yondu’s coat before they could lose sight of him. Eventually, Peter’s impatience got the best of him, and he simultaneously let out a frustrated shout and a blast of light, startling everyone within a fifty-foot radius. They managed to sprint the rest of the way down to the arena ring without trouble after that.

“Sister!” Nebula shouted. She didn’t wait for Peter and Yondu, instead vaulting herself over the electric fence perimeter like it was nothing. Gamora’s eyes lit up with a different sort of elation upon hearing Nebula’s voice, and she ran to embrace her, much to Nebula’s chagrin.

“Nebula!” Gamora burrowed her face in Nebula’s neck. “It’s so good to see you, sister.”

“Do _not_ \- ” Nebula wrestled out of Gamora’s grip and shoved her back; she was now covered in blood, too. “You’ve been gone for two days, and suddenly you rule _Boudalankru_?”

“Something Father has never done before,” Gamora said gleefully, her face shining. “Do you think he will be proud?”

“Is that why you did this? Is that why you hurt their champion?” Nebula looked over Gamora’s shoulder to the boy, still crumpled on the ground, now being tended to by his people’s doctors. He blinked blearily up at them in a daze, though one of his eyes was swollen shut.

Gamora faltered, the light in her eyes starting to dim. “It was either a Conclave or my death, Nebula. I chose to survive.”

“Of course,” Nebula said hollowly. She nodded behind her. “Your _lukot_ is here.”

“My - oh.” Gamora finally seemed to notice Peter standing there with his mouth hanging open, now that he could see her up close, see the story of her battle written out on her clothes, her skin, her face. “ _Petr_...what are you doing here?”

“Nebula found me and told me you were gone, and I wanted to help.” He stepped forward, shooting her a strained, but hopeful smile. “I feel real bad about all that stuff we said to each other. Your people are just as important as mine, and maybe...maybe if your dad and my dad talked, all of this could just...stop. I don’t wanna fight anymore. Me and you, and my people and your people.”

“You don’t know our father,” Gamora sighed, though she looked relieved to see him regardless. “He does not want peace. He will not talk. He didn’t even look for me.”

“That’s not true,” Nebula interjected. “Father sent nearly his whole army looking out for his beloved _heda_.” Gamora narrowed her eyes at Nebula’s tone, though she decided not to comment on it. Instead, she glanced up at Yondu, who was stood firmly over Peter, staring down at her in mild perplexion.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Captain Yondu Udonta of New Arkadia, and Quill’s chaperone,” Yondu replied gruffly. “And _you_ are the scariest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her entire expression shifted into something far more childlike, and Yondu found himself regretting his choice of words. “I do not want to be scary,” Gamora said, hastily trying to wipe the blood off her face; it only rubbed it in further. “I just wanted to survive.”

“Well, you did just that.” Yondu tried not to look at the _Boudalankru_ boy, tried not to listen to the way he cried out when the doctors lifted him onto a stretcher, cursing _heda_ to the heavens. “Let’s go ‘fore these boo-doll folk get any ideas about looking into me n’ Quill.”

“ _Boudalankru_ ,” all three children said in unison. Yondu threw his hands up in defeat and motioned for them to follow.

* * *

Getting back to the ship was easy enough despite Yondu’s apprehension, with the crowd parting like the sea for Gamora, letting her and the others pass through. When he asked her about it, about the Conclave and the little things she and Peter had said about her father, she had a strange, far-away look in her eyes and merely said, “You still don’t know much about life around here.”

“An’ I’m guessing you won’t tell me,” Yondu had replied, getting an affirmative nod in return.

The walk back would’ve been silent if not for Peter’s incessant chatter, pestering both girls with questions until Gamora silenced him with a single glare. Once they were on board, though, she quietly took a seat beside him, gratefully accepting the medical kit when he set it down on her lap. He wordlessly began to help her dress the wounds she couldn’t quite reach while Yondu and Nebula sat at the controls, getting them back in the air.

“Thank you,” she murmured, craning her neck to watch as he placed the last bandage over the puncture wound in the small of her back. “And...I feel bad about what I said, too. I’m sorry. I’m not good with...words, I suppose.”

“You talk way more like a grownup than I do,” Peter countered.

“I mean like... _how_ I say things, not _what_ I’m saying,” Gamora explained carefully. Her face fell again, remembering what Yondu had said to her. “Do I scare you?”

“I guess...a little bit,” he admitted. “I don’t wanna lie to you anymore, so...yeah, a little bit. But that don’t change the fact that you’re my friend, and I _want_ you to be my friend. Not just ‘cos you’re teaching me Trig and stuff, but ‘cos I like hanging out with you.”

“ _Ai lukot_ ,” she said, smiling tentatively. “My friend.”

Peter smiled back, taking her less-bandaged hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “ _Ai lukot_ ,” he repeated.

“Father is calling for us.”

Gamora shot to her feet, instantly letting go of Peter’s hand. “What?”

Nebula held up her communicator, her mouth set in an even harder line than usual. “Maw heard of the _Boudalankru_ Conclave and sent spies to find you, and now he knows you’re not alone. Father wants to meet with us... _all_ of us.”

“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me,” Yondu groaned. “This is already the longest damn night of my life, can’t I jus’ drop you two off and take Quill home?”

“If you don’t do what Father wants, he will kill _all_ of your people, just like that.” Gamora snapped her fingers. Peter shivered.

“Is he gonna hurt us?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“If he is in the mood,” Nebula replied bluntly, scratching at the now-dried blood on the front of her jacket. Peter wasn’t proud of the whimper that escaped his throat.

An hour later, Gamora stirred, not realizing she had even fallen asleep in the first place, startled to find she had dozed off on Peter’s shoulder. All four of them had been restless the whole way, a tense silence filling the entire cabin, none of them daring to speak about what was ahead or what was already behind them. Even Peter had been too anxious to ask, because as much as he wanted to pester Gamora with a hundred questions about Thanos, he had the feeling that no answer would ease his worries.

They touched down outside of Sanctuary; the first thing Peter was thrown by was the sheer size of the ship, far outweighing the Ark, stretching far above the fences that were meant to contain it. The front gates were also similar to New Arkadia’s settlement, with watchtower guards waving them in, though their armor only reminded Peter of the night he and Gamora met and the young, dying soldier who looked a little bit too much like Kraglin. “ _Monin hou, heda_!” one of them called.

“‘Welcome back, Commander’,” Gamora murmured in Peter’s ear. He watched in astonishment as every last person they passed bowed their head in her direction, muttering words of respect under their breaths.

“ _You’re_ the commander?” Peter asked, agape. “What about - ”

“He is _wanheda_ , the commander of death. I am _heda_ , to be _wanheda_ someday.” She bit her lip so hard she drew blood. “Only some factions listen to Father and his generals. _Boudalankru_ was one of our biggest enemies.”

“And now what, they like you or somethin’? I still dunno what happened back there,” he admitted.

Gamora smiled ruefully. “Neither do I.”

They were accompanied by two guardsmen through a winding series of hallways, though Gamora and Nebula seemed to know exactly where they were going. Peter could see Gamora was itching to reach for Nebula and take her hand, but Nebula had flattened her palms against her thighs in a very militant-like posture, her footsteps even heavier than Yondu’s. He took a moment to look around, amazed and horrified at how different Sanctuary looked from _Boudalankru_. It was far less friendly-looking than the original Ark, with wide corridors and tall ceilings, all dark and hollow and intimidatingly massive.

Finally, they reached a huge set of double doors; stationed in front were two alien beings who seemed impossibly tall, wielding weapons that stood higher than the top of Peter’s head. Unlike the other Grounders, neither bowed upon their approach. “Corvus, Proxima,” Gamora said tightly. “Is your army back?”

Proxima’s lip curled into a sneer. “We’ve called off the search for our precious _heda_ , yes. And Father has heard of your victory in _Boudalankru_.”

“I had no choice.” Gamora glanced down at her hands, fiddling with the gauze wrapped around her left thumb, causing its exposed end to fray. “Their champion still lives.”

“Then it is not much of a victory after all,” Corvus drawled, keeping his head straight forward, refusing to look at her. He and Proxima stepped aside, allowing the guardsmen to open the doors, a rush of ice-cold air hitting all four of them in the face before they entered the throne room.

Like seemingly everywhere else in Sanctuary, it was dark and damp and unfriendly, devoid of anything that could make it feel remotely welcoming. There was a single long platform that led to the center of the room, where two thrones sat side-by-side. One was significantly shorter and unoccupied, and it made Gamora shudder when she saw it. She only ever sat in it once per year, on her birthday, a time when _wanheda_ liked to remind everyone who his successor was and what she was capable of. The other throne was concealed in the shadows, but there was no doubt as to who was sat upon it.

Yondu and Peter stared dumbfoundedly at the impossibly large man as he got to his feet, turning so his back was to them, casting a darkness down the length of the platform and across their faces. “I’ve been told of your call for a Conclave, Gamora. Bold of you, considering they are only meant for the most dire of situations, for a threat to your title.” His voice rumbled, bouncing off every surface, shaking everyone’s ankles and knees from the vibrations in the floor.

“They were going to kill me to weaken you,” Gamora said evenly, bowing her head out of respect despite him not looking her way.

“And your first Conclave was to be when you turned fourteen,” he continued, ignoring her. “You could have _died_ tonight, little one.”

“But I did not.” She tilted her face back up, held her chin higher; Nebula’s entire upper body seemed to slouch in contrast. Peter and Yondu still weren’t sure what to do with themselves, glancing around helplessly, but neither sister made any attempt to guide them.

“No, you did not.” There was a hint of a smile on Thanos’s face as he finally turned around, the full effect of his vastness overwhelming Peter, who took a few steps back, heart pounding rapidly in his ears. Though he wore simple armor, it was his face that caught them by surprise; the violently purple eyes narrowing in their direction, the mottled constellation of battle scars covering every inch of his skin, the sneer of a man who had looked upon gods and found himself wholly unimpressed. “ _This_ is the boy you’ve been meeting in secret? _Petr kom Skaikru_?”

“Yes,” Gamora murmured. “ _Ai lukot_.”

“How did you meet my daughter, _Petr_?” Thanos demanded. “And how did you come by her in _Boudalankru_ today?”

“I - uh - um.” Peter cleared his throat, fiddling with his thumbs in a failed attempt to stop his hands from shaking. Thanos looked bored already. “My camp was attacked by your army. I ran away so they would chase me, and that’s when I met - ”

“Why would they chase _you_?” Thanos interrupted. Maw and Cull, who were stood at the foot of his throne, turned to look at Peter, to really look at him, Maw’s gaze flickering up and down with clear distaste in his otherwise soulless eyes. Thanos gestured to the guards stationed by the doors, and they opened them for Proxima and Corvus to step inside, both of them lifting their weapons so they were pointed directly at Peter’s back. It sent a short, but clear message - _impress me or die_.

Peter inhaled sharply, then held out his hands, forming a glowing orb of light no larger than a piece of fruit. Then it grew bigger, big enough that it dwarfed his own head, obscuring his face from everyone else, causing Proxima and Corvus to stumble back, blindsided. He then pulled one hand away from the other, splitting the orb in two. The one in his right hand morphed into a light dagger, the other into something he had never been able to do before - a flower, fresh and vibrant and the exact same shade of red as Gamora’s hair. He turned toward her, holding them both out for her to take. Astonished, she wordlessly accepted them both, her heart thumping in concern when she noticed the wetness in his eyes from his concentrated effort.

He looked back to Thanos. His voice shook when he spoke again. “Once I stopped running, I was real lost. That’s when I met Gamora. I asked her to help me find my way back.”

Thanos sank into his throne, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “And today?”

“Nebula came to New Arkadia to find me ‘cos Gamora was missing. I took her to where I saw her last, an’ then we went to _Boudalankru_ together. The Conclave was over by the time we got there.” Thanos nodded slowly, his brow raising in surprise at Peter’s somewhat-correct Trigedasleng pronunciation. He then waved for the Black Order generals to leave the room so only he, his daughters, Peter, and Yondu remained.

“You have strength, _Petr kom Skaikru_ , and abilities I have never seen before in my countless years of crossing the galaxy,” Thanos commented. “You are no mere human, are you?”

Yondu, who had been mostly petrified (not that he would ever admit to it) throughout the entire encounter, finally moved silently to warn Peter, to stop him before he gave it away, but - “I’m half-Celestial.”

“You are the son of the man who is calling for the death of my people?”

“And you’re the one callin’ for the death of ours,” Peter retorted suddenly, clenching his glowing fists. Gamora let out a startled noise, barely noticing the way Nebula clutched at her arm automatically to brace herself for his retaliation.

Thanos merely chuckled, albeit in a very sinister way, and leaned back. “I like this one, daughter. He is too naive to know what to fear and too vulnerable to know how not to trust. Yet, he holds the powers of the universe in his hands.”

She stepped forward. “Father, I - ”

“You want this war to end, don’t you, _Petr_?” Thanos asked, silencing Gamora with a single raise of his hand. “You want to grow up in a world where you know nothing but full bellies and clear skies.”

“Don’t everyone?” Peter slowly unfurled his fingers, though they still remained alight. “Then no one’s gotta die for no reason.”

“And if there _was_ a reason?” Thanos cocked his head to one side, seemingly staring right through him. “What then?”

“I - ” Peter faltered. “I guess...well, people die ‘cos of reasons, right? Like, when they get sick or hurt or just...old. That don’t mean it has to happen. It just does. And war makes it happen faster. Makes it happen to kids like me. Even if we don’t die, our parents do. My mom is a medic, and she has to tell families all the time that people didn’t make it. I don’t want no one to have to tell her that _I_ didn’t make it, or someone to tell me that _she_ didn’t. I want my mom to see me grow up. And...I think you wanna see your daughters grow up, too. You sent a whole army lookin’ for Gamora ‘cos you wanna see her become your _heda_. There won’t be no _heda_ or Chancellor or nothing if everyone is dead.”

Thanos hummed, contemplating; Gamora and Nebula sucked in their breaths. “When you return to your father tonight, you tell him I will make peace with your people under these terms: we cease all fighting immediately, and neither of us are to pick up a weapon again for six months. Consider it a show of good faith. Then we meet in Polis to discuss the future of this planet and what is to become of those who live on it.”

Gamora made no attempt to hide her astonishment, glancing rapidly back and forth between Nebula and Peter with wide eyes. Even Yondu looked stunned despite being largely unfamiliar with what was happening, realizing the gravity of Thanos’s offer, the levity of its generosity. “I will,” Peter said, the light dimming entirely from his hands. “Um, thank you.”

“You thank me too early,” Thanos drawled, smirking. “My last condition is that you will not speak to my daughter until we convene in Polis. I can only imagine what sort of insights and intelligence she has shared with you in your time together. I will not let it happen again. The potential resumption of your companionship will be determined in my discussions with your father.”

“ _Wanheda_ , I never said anything - ”

“You keep interrupting me, little one, but I assure you, I will speak with you another time. Know your place,” he growled. “Now leave, and do not let me see or hear of you until then.” Peter shot Gamora one last pleading look before he and Yondu were promptly ushered out of the room by Corvus and Proxima, caught one last glimpse of her before they were taken back to their ship and told to never return. “Gamora, leave us.”

“I...thought you wanted to speak with me,” she said quietly.

“I did not mean _now_ ,” Thanos said, instead directing his attention toward Nebula. “I have words for this one first.”

Gamora’s legs felt heavy as she made the walk back toward the doors, trying desperately to shut out the continuing conversation behind her. “I have returned your _heda_ , Father, something the _gonakru_ could not do - ”

“You do not speak ill of those under my command, Nebula. In fact, you should not speak at all.”

Gamora was numb by the time Maw escorted her back to her quarters, thanks to what seemed like a never-ending night, barely listening to his non-stop chatter about “that funny-looking _Skaikru_ child” or her “ _bushhada_ of a sister”. She felt like she only just managed to make her way through the motions as she bathed, finding it impossible to get all the blood out of everything, changed into her sleepclothes, and approached her bed. How she wished she had the chance to finish her conversation with Peter, all the conversations they’d _been_ having since they met, about how her world worked, what it meant to be _heda_ , what his agreement with Thanos really meant.

Instead, she knelt on the floor to pull out the box from beneath her mattress, setting it down and opening it to reveal all of Peter’s little misshapen gifts, still in their imperfect perfect condition. She put both the dagger and flower inside, surprised to find the latter hadn’t wilted in the hour that had passed since its creation, wondering if it was Peter’s doing. Smiling faintly, she put the box back in its place and turned off the light. As she climbed into bed and under her sheets, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to be sleeping tonight. Not when she could hear Nebula’s screams clear across Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, it's been a minute - sorry this chapter is so incredibly late, my semester had been going terribly and I barely had time to do much of anything outside of school. When I _did_ have time for fic writing, I indulged in a little Scott/Hope ([here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882072) and [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345137) if you're interested) since it was a lot lighter and less plot-heavy than this fic, but I promise I haven't abandoned this!
> 
> I know there's a lot of world-building going on right now but the next chapter will be more about character relationships - there hasn't been a ton of focus on Drax, and Rocket and Groot haven't even shown up yet, so that will get rectified soon. Also, I hope y'all enjoy _Endgame_ when you get a chance to see it! I'll be going on vacation two days after it comes out so I'll be late to the post-movie fic party, but I'm very likely going to be posting at least three (I'm thinking Peter/Gamora, Scott/Hope, and Carol/Valkyrie, because yes) one-shots. In the meantime, thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
>  **Trigedasleng translations:**  
>  _plangona_ \- warrior woman / _shilkru_ \- guard / _goufa_ \- child  
>  _Koken hainofi...tsa bants._ \- Crazy princess...let's go. / _Heda, nou hainofi. Bushhadas._ \- Commander, not princess. Cowards.  
>  _Ai ste lufa Petr kom Skaikru au. Ai laik Nebula kom Trikru, strisis kom Gamora._ \- I am looking for Peter of the Sky People. I am Nebula of the Forest Clan, little sister of Gamora. / _Ai laik Petr kom Skaikru. Weron laik Gamora?_ \- I am Peter of the Sky People. Where is Gamora?  
>  _Chek ai au, bushhadas! Ai laik yu heda!_ \- Look at me, cowards! I am your commander! / _Yo laik ai kru, ai laik yu heda!_ \- You are my people, I am your commander!


End file.
